


anything goes

by magicsoul (cherishiskisa)



Category: 4minute (Band), Pentagon (Korea Band), Triple H (Korea Band)
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Hyojong-centric, Hyuna Works At Disneyworld, Like. A Lot Of Very Explicit Threesomes LMAO, M/M, Mild Angst, Mild Fun, Multi, Slow Burn, Surprises, THIS IS A ONE SHOT! AO3 JUST MADE ME SPLIT IT INTO TWO!, Threesome - F/M/M, Yachting, also technically it's enemies to lovers to friends to lovers lol, i cant believe how long this is, it has nothing in common with it and isnt a sequel lmao, it's a lot less serious than the summary and tags make it sound, this is the ideological sequel to my other triple h fic but
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2019-01-01 02:37:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 78,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12146817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherishiskisa/pseuds/magicsoul
Summary: If Hyuna weren’t so upset, it would almost be funny. So cinematic, a long-lost best friend coming back and inviting her on a magical journey across the Caribbean -- but it’s not funny at all. Everything that happens next isn’t particularly funny, either, but what choice does Hyojong have other than to be along for the ride?





	1. part 1: ebb

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow it’s finally here. ever since i wrote my first triple h fic i’ve had this vague idea and now it’s finally done, all almost 80k of it. there’s no real warnings to put here except for some brief fighting, one scene involving near drowning, and Melodrama. if anybody reading this fic knows a lot about yachts or, like, the caribbean, im literally so sorry!!!!! my excuse is that hyojong doesnt know shit about yachts or the caribbean and therefore he wouldn’t be narrating about it if he doesn’t know about it. hehe
> 
> thank you so much to maddie for mildly roasting me about this fic as i wrote it and for inspiring me hehehe, and to yesenia for being the only person willing to listen to me going off about this lmao and for cheering me on :') . and to whoever else i’ve told about it who’s been enthused!! if you’re interested in what kind of music i was listening to while i was writing this, there’s a playlist [right here](https://open.spotify.com/user/chicagotaz/playlist/5oLdaeqt9VSoJpMZYD8HtB). 
> 
> please let me know what you thought!!!! if you end up making it to the end that is and if you do -- MAD respect to you. please leave a comment or drop me a line on tumblr @gaywillis or twitter [@paratazxis](twitter.com/paratazxis) i’d love to talk about this fic or triple h in general!!!! ahhhhh!!!!!!
> 
> anyway i’ll hush up lol please enjoy: anything goes! (aka the suite life, the love boat, The Triple H Yacht Fic, Yes I’m Still Writing It, Haha Can You Believe It It’s Over 50k now, etc. title from that musical that happens on a boat). just so you know this is intended to be and was written as a one-shot but ao3 made me split it into two parts bc it was too long!!

“Great, one for lunch at 12:15 tomorrow! And can I get a name for the reservation?”

“Kim.”

“And last name?”

“Uh, Kardashian.”

Silence on the other end of the line, and when she speaks again, Hyojong sees rather than hears her strained smile. “…Last name?”

“Kim _is_ my last name, and I’m not gonna waste time spelling Hyojong, so just put down Kardashian for now and we’ll take it from there.”

Muffled typing sounds. She’s probably adding a special note for the kitchen staff to spit in his food. “And… will you be paying with cash or card?”

Hyojong digs out his wallet. “Card. Also, uh, I’m in the family program thing, I’ve got the discount.”

“Oh! Wonderful! Do you have the account number? I can put that in for you right away.”

“Yeah,” Hyojong mumbles, finding his Disney pass and flipping it over to the back. “I’m on Hyuna’s tab, you know Hyuna?”

“Of course!” the young woman says, so vibrantly that she’s definitely lying. “So that number?”

Hyojong reads it aloud to her, then puts the pass back in his wallet. Hyuna picked out the design for him; it’s Peter Pan and Tinkerbell, both in huge sunglasses, anachronistically in front of Cinderella’s castle. The young woman on the other end of the line finishes typing it in, and her voice sounds genuinely warm when she says, “How nice of you to visit your wife at work.”

Wife? Hyojong’s pretty sure Hyuna told him that she put him in the system as her brother, but whatever. That was, like, a year ago, he’s probably remembering it wrong. He smiles slightly, scratching his jaw. “Uh huh. So I’m all set?”

“You’re all set! Have a Disney day,” the woman gushes, then hangs up abruptly. Hyojong knows from countless bitter stories told by Hyuna that that’s code for “I hate you and I hope you die, fucker” in Disney-speak, and he texts Hyuna about it even though she’s at work right now and won’t get it until later, by which point he may as well just tell her what happened himself. Apparently, Hyuna tells her customers to have a Disney day at least five times a week. 

The reservation taken care of, Hyojong changes into his work clothes and heads out. He has his day off on Saturday and he agreed to a full shift tonight. He’s not looking forward to spending seven hours flexing intimidatingly at drunken D-listers, but he motivates himself with thoughts of bugging Hyuna at the restaurant tomorrow. That’s enough to get him through the night, even when he has to kick two people out and turn away several giggly underage girls from the club entrance. No fights tonight, at least, which is good, and he can feel his phone buzzing in his blazer pocket pretty much nonstop after 9, when Hyuna gets back from working the dinner rush. On his break, he checks his phone while he has a smoke out back, and tells Hyuna he’d rather have Thai than Indian but he won’t be back in time for a midnight snack anyway so she can get whatever she wants. She replies, _don’t i always? lol_

It’s someone’s birthday and they booked out half the club, so there’s not much for Hyojong to do after they get going other than checking the guest list and standing by the VIP room. Hyojong hates the music the DJ of the night has picked out, but what can he do about it? He entertains himself for a solid thirty minutes with thoughts of banishing this Skrillex clone from the premises and playing some actual good music for the clubgoers instead. He’d start with something family-friendly like 3OH!3 to lull them into a false sense of security, then hit them with some Latvian techno or deep house remixes of sea shanties to really get them dancing. 

He gets home after 2 and, to his surprise, Hyuna is still up. She’s on the couch in a bra and sweatpants, her hair up, eating pad thai directly out of the takeout container. “Hi,” she says around a mouthful of noodles. “You’ll never believe what this _bitch_ said to me today.”

“I bet,” Hyojong agrees, taking his blazer off and hanging it up by the door. He takes off his shoes, too, and heads over to collapse on the couch next to her, eyes slipping closed. “Which bitch was it?”

“Which bitch do you think? Elsa, that ugly whore,” Hyuna says, shoving a box full of cashew chicken at Hyojong. “I was serving this family of, like, _twenty_ , right? And she comes up behind me and she’s all, la la la, oh, excuzes-moi, what a beautiful family, you’re all princesses here, and who is this, your stepdaughter? Looking at _me_! Do I _look_ like someone’s stepdaughter?”

Hyojong has no idea what Hyuna is talking about, and he offers her a cashew, which she eats. “Nah.”

“Right? Well, she didn’t really say exactly that, not in those words, but it was— that’s totally what she meant,” Hyuna says. “Anyway, you look good, did you have to beat anyone up tonight?”

“Nah,” Hyojong says again, scooting off the couch so he can sit on the floor. “Why was she speaking French, anyway? I thought Elsa was ambiguously Nordic.”

“Don’t even get me started, she’s so fucking dumb,” Hyuna says, shaking her head. “But! Another kid thought I was Ariel, even though I look like a fucking rusted penny, so I guess it wasn’t a totally wasted day.”

Hyojong glances up at Hyuna. Her hair isn’t as red as she wants it to be, but strict employee policies mean she can’t have it the color she wants. She settles for this gentle orange-auburn, dyed by Hyojong in the bathtub, and her roots are growing out just a little and she looks so beautiful even when she’s complaining too hard about her coworkers to be able to get any food down. “Do you know the girl that answers phones?”

“We have, like, three,” Hyuna says. “Which one?”

“I dunno, but she told me to have a Disney day, didn’t you get my text?”

Hyuna thinks about it for a second, then nods. “I don’t know her name, but I know the one, she’s always saying that, don’t take it personal. Why were you calling, anyway?”

“That’s a surprise,” Hyojong says, spearing some chicken and vegetables. The food’s gone cold; he wonders how long ago Hyuna ordered it and why she’s still up. “Maybe I was getting flowers delivered for my _wife_.”

“Your— oh,” Hyuna says, then coughs. “That’s a clerical error. I put you in as my brother, I told you.”

“Uh huh,” Hyojong sighs, leaning his head back against the couch. Hyuna touches the top of his head and he doesn’t react, just feeling how tired he is and how good it is to come home to someone. He’s used to it, but he’ll never get used to it.

“You okay?”

Hyojong hums, nodding slightly. “Long day. Or… night, I guess.” Long nights don’t feel as bad when Hyuna’s this energetic, though. Some days he comes home and she’s got music playing so loud the walls shake, and they dance together for half an hour before he remembers he’s still in his lame work outfit and runs off to change. 

“Day off this weekend, you excited? Big plans?” Hyuna murmurs, starting to pet through his hair. “You could go see a movie.”

“There’s nothing good out,” Hyojong says. “I’ll probably end up at the club anyway, you know what the fuck I’m like.”

“Don’t you dare!” Hyuna laughs. “Ooh, if you’re feeling really crazy, you could go to bed at eight.”

“Sounds crazy,” Hyojong nods. “Maybe too crazy for me.” Tomorrow, he’ll probably head over to Disney around 10, spend an hour in the park, then show up for his lunch reservation. He considered getting one of those princess meals where they hang out at your table and bother you in a princess sort of way, but Hyuna would definitely kill him in his sleep if she saw him talking to any of them for more than ten seconds. Not because she’s jealous, though, Hyojong is pretty sure. She just hates them a lot. “I’ll honestly just sleep all day.”

“Poor thing,” Hyuna coos, patting his head. “Finish your food then go to sleep.”

“You, too,” Hyojong says, sitting up to finish what’s in the container. “Why are you still up?”

“Missed you,” Hyuna answers with a shrug. “Is that so wrong, huh?”

Hyojong shakes his head, looking up at her for a second. “It’s okay. You done? Go to bed, I’ll clean up here.”

“Thanks,” Hyuna hums, leaning down to slip her arms around his shoulders and squeeze him tightly. She presses her cheek against his for a moment before pulling away. “You’re so cute, Dawnie. You just love to clean.”

“Someone has to,” Hyojong says, pleased with how affectionate she’s being. For all her talk, it clearly wasn’t all that bad of a day at work or she wouldn’t be in such a bubbly mood. “Night.”

“Good night,” Hyuna answers, patting him one more time before getting up and heading down the hall to her room. Hyojong hears her door close, and he sighs, stretching his legs out along the floor. He polishes off his food, and just as he’s finishing up clearing the coffee table and throwing out the empty containers, Hyuna’s door opens again and she comes out, face clean of makeup and pajamas on. She looks just a little upset, and Hyojong frowns, turning the kitchen light off and going into the hall to meet her. “Hey.”

“Hey. Look at this email I just got,” Hyuna says, chewing her lower lip, and hands her phone to Hyojong. He looks at the screen and she fits into his side to read it with him.

The email, sent two hours ago, reads: 

_Hyuna,_

_I’m in town for a few days. Let’s meet up for lunch. I have something I want to discuss with you._

_Hwitaek_

“Okay,” Hyojong says after a second, not getting it, and he squints at the signature. “Hang on, that’s, uh. I know who that is, right?”

“My friend, my— Hui, that’s Hui, my best friend,” Hyuna says, taking her phone back. “I told you. My best friend. And he moved away.”

“Oh, that guy,” Hyojong says, then shrugs one shoulder. “It’s a spam email.”

“No, it isn’t,” Hyuna says, clutching her phone protectively to her chest as if Hyojong will take it from her. 

“Yeah, it is, I get those all the time, like, from my high school teachers and shit. Like, please help, my sister-in-law is having her gallbladder removed, can you send me $3,000? That kind of deal,” Hyojong nods. “Don’t answer, just delete it.”

Hyuna looks down at her phone, taking in a shaky breath. “You think?”

“I’m pretty sure,” Hyojong says. Hyuna is so good at making him feel better when he’s getting all in his head, but he’s terrible at comforting her in return. The most he can do is put his arms around her and hug her even though she’s not hugging back, and press a kiss to her forehead. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she whispers into his shirt. “He wouldn’t wanna meet up with me, anyway.”

“His loss,” Hyojong says, running his hand over her back, up and down, slow. “Just delete it, don’t worry about it.”

Hyuna is still for a little while, then nods, her body relaxing as she uncrosses her arms and hugs him back briefly. “Thank you. Sorry. I know I’m being stupid. Good night, go to sleep, I’m sorry.”

“It’s cool,” Hyojong says, letting her go when she pulls away. “Night.”

“Good night,” Hyuna says again, then returns to her room. Her door closes, and after a moment of hesitation, the lock clicks, too.

Hyojong goes into the living room and pulls back the comforter on the mattress he’s had set up there for a little more than a year. Hyuna hasn’t told him a lot about this Hui guy, but she’s told him enough that he knows he’s important. Hyuna’s childhood best friend, with whom her connection was apparently just as deep and _forever_ as it is with Hyojong. He moved away abruptly and without warning when Hyuna was 13, and she hasn’t heard from him since or forgiven him for it. Super rich, apparently, too, the heir to a decent fortune, and cute as a button when he was a baby. That’s all Hyojong knows. If Hui really has come back… but Hyojong won’t think about that. It’d be too much for Hyuna, and if there’s one thing Hyojong knows he’s good at in this world, it’s having her back. He’ll take care of it all himself if he has to, send Hui back to whatever multimillion-dollar hole he crawled out of if his presence is hurting Hyuna.

He strips down to boxers and curls up in bed, and he falls asleep thinking that he doubts whether Hyuna actually deleted that email.

When he wakes up, the apartment is empty — Hyuna’s working breakfast and lunch today, but she has dinner off. Their schedules, incompatible as ever, mean they wouldn’t see each other today if it weren’t for Hyojong coming to her work for have lunch. He takes his time getting dressed, not that it makes a difference; he only has three Hyuna-approved casual outfits to choose from. He goes with jeans and a purple sleeveless tee, if only to give Hyuna a laugh and her coworkers something to gossip about. Right on schedule, he makes it to the park at 10:30, and he hits up a few rides and takes a selfie with a somewhat bedraggled Mickey Mouse before going over to Cinderella’s Royal Table. There’s a decent line, which he cuts, and the smiling hostess offers him a photo-op with Cinderella, which he declines. He can see Hyuna from here, that strained, professional smile she reserves for waitressing plastered on her face as she writes down someone’s order. The hostess leads him to a table in Hyuna’s section, as per his request, and he flips lazily through the menu and eyes Hyuna as she makes her way through the restaurant, checking up on people and clearing tables.

He stares at the word ‘confit’ for so long that he stops being sure it’s a word, and is therefore extremely startled when suddenly Hyuna raps her knuckles on his tabletop, her eyes blazing even though she’s got that same huge smile on her face. “Bonjour, welcome to Cinderella’s Royal Table,” she says through her teeth. “How is monsieur doing today?”

“Hi hi,” Hyojong says, leaning his chair back onto its hind legs. He’s only visited her here once before, when he first moved to Orlando and moved in with her. His excuse for coming today is that he wanted to see if the new uniform is as bad as she’s been claiming it is. (It isn’t, of course. Hyuna could make a burlap sack look like high fashion, and the same goes for this polyester nightmare she’s wrapped in right now.) “Just peachy.”

“Great to hear,” Hyuna says, continuing to look somewhat murderous. “Have you dined with us before? Oh, forget it, I don’t have the energy right now. What are you doing here?”

“Getting lunch,” Hyojong shrugs. He rests his hand on the table, too, stretching his thumb out to brush her pinky finger. “I heard this place has the best waitresses, to say nothing of the tableside princess service—”

“Our daily specials,” Hyuna says over him, but her smile gets a lot more genuine, “are a French onion soup and a steak roulade. Will you be ordering from the a la carte menu or enjoying our prix fixe?” She pronounces it _pricks fix_ on purpose to make him laugh, and it works; Hyojong snorts, dropping his chair back down to the ground.

“Surprise me,” he says, raising his eyebrows at her, and she pulls her hand back quickly, huffing and reaching for her notepad.

“One big ol’ surprise, coming right up,” she mutters, “but I can’t guarantee you’ll like it. This is why you were calling yesterday, right? You snake. Oh, f— here she comes, I’m gonna get out while I still can.” She pulls a little face at him and hurries away, and after another moment, Hyojong sees why — Elsa is breezing past the tables, greeting guests and beaming genially. When he next catches Hyuna’s eye from across the restaurant, he rolls his eyes and tucks his hands cutely under his chin in an imitation of some demure princess, and her lips twitch with a badly concealed smile before she looks away again.

A different waitress brings Hyojong his food, but Hyuna comes back after a few minutes to check on him. “How is everything tasting?” she asks, her big fake smile on full blast. “Can I get you any more Sprite?”

“I’ve just discovered I have a death allergy to Sprite and this meat is actually a piece of shoe leather slathered with mustard,” Hyojong says, “but other than that, it’s delicious, I just wish the plates would stop talking to me.”

“You— fantastic,” Hyuna says, still determinedly smiling. “I’m so glad. Oh, look, what’s that? What light through yonder doorway breaks? It is the east, and Rapunzel is the sun, here she comes with her dollar store perfume and fake tits— I have so much to tell you later, are you working late tonight?”

“Kinda,” Hyojong says, dropping his fork on purpose so Hyuna has to stay longer. “I’m done at one instead of three, though, yay.”

“Yay!” Hyuna agrees, then runs off to get him a new fork. She comes back in a second, setting it on the table for him. “What did you want for dessert, again? Oh, wait, I’m meant to surprise you, right. Why do you hate me so much, huh?”

“I like your outfit,” Hyojong says instead of answering any of her questions, and grins when she briefly scowls. “I mean it! It’s, uh, cute.”

“You’re one to talk, Tinky Winky,” she says, gesturing to his purple shirt. “What went wrong here?”

“Aren’t you on the clock? Go away, I’m eating this delectable cardboard,” Hyojong says, cutting off another piece of beef. Hyuna visibly has to work very hard not to laugh, and she hurries off again to tend to some other table. Hyojong watches her go, and he watches how soft and open her face gets when she bends down to take the order of a little girl, who also reaches up to point to Hyuna’s hair, evidently amazed by how much like a princess this perfectly ordinary waitress looks. Hyojong’s smiling too hard to do much more than drink his Sprite. _I have the best best friend in the whole world_ , he thinks to himself, and when someone brings him an ice cream sundae — his least favorite dessert — that sentiment doesn’t even waver for an instant.

“Would it be weird if I left a really big tip? I already pay for your electricity and stuff,” he muses when Hyuna comes back with the check. Hyuna hits his ankle with a carefully-aimed kick, concealed by her long skirt and the tablecloth, and Hyojong yelps. 

“Someone’s feeling bold today,” she says. “Watch what you say or I’ll set my very dear friend Aurora on you and you’ll never be able to leave because she’ll be talking for fifty minutes about her friends the wildflowers.”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” Hyojong laughs, taking his card out of his wallet. “How’s this, I’ll leave a really big tip if you give me your number.”

Hyuna glances around to make sure no one is looking, then surreptitiously flips Hyojong off, her hand hidden by a stack of menus in her other arm. “You’re so obnoxious. Gimme that.” She takes his card and performs a half-hearted curtsy, then goes off to put the payment through. Hyojong finishes his Sprite and leaves her a good tip when she comes back, huffing a quiet laugh when he sees she’s drawn a little skull and crossbones on the customer copy of the check. 

“Thank you so much for dining with us at Cinderella’s Royal Table,” Hyuna says, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Come back and see us again sometime soon, okay? That’s just part of the script, please don’t actually come back.”

“Ouch,” Hyojong says. “I bet you say that to all the boys.”

“What’s gotten into you today?” Hyuna says, once again trying not to laugh. “Just leave! See you at home, have fun at work.”

“You, too,” Hyojong says, smiling up at her. She allows herself a small, genuine smile in return, and he can tell that even though she’s being grouchy and impatient, she’s glad he came to visit. 

He doesn’t stay at the park long after that. It’s too crowded and hot, and he knows Hyuna won’t go on break for another hour so there’s no point in staying. He makes it back to their apartment, takes a nap, and then gets dressed for work. The club is already busy when he gets there, which is never a good sign. And he’s on bar duty, too, not at the door, and before an hour has passed he’s already had to walk two people to the bathroom and one to a taxi. There’s a small crowd of business formal-clad people, evidently an office happy hour event, and some sorority girls surrounded by some fraternity boys, whom he’s keeping an extremely close eye on. But none of them try anything, and another hour passes, then another. Some people try to dance with him, as they always do, but the most he’s contractually allowed to do is give them a tight smile and then resume scanning the floor for any potential issues.

His earpiece crackles. “Law and order at B Bar, please. No danger, just kind of a clown.”

Hyojong is on A and B tonight, so he goes over there, pushing his way through the crowd to see what’s going on. He sees who the clown is immediately; a young man about Hyojong’s height and age, wearing a silk shirt that’s the exact same shade of purple as Hyojong’s shirt from earlier that day was. He’s drunk and leaning heavily on the bar as he sends shotglasses flying down the counter so they’ll slide off the edge and shatter on the floor. Hyojong exchanges looks with the wearied bartender and notes some girls standing near the young man who also look very put-upon and annoyed.

“Hi,” Hyojong says conversationally, standing next to the young man. “How’s it going?”

“You called security on me?” the young man laughs, spinning an empty shotglass on the tip of his finger. He’s handsome in a smug way. He’s probably been hearing that he’s handsome every day of his charmed life and it’s gone to his head. “Wow. And I thought we were all having such a good time!”

The girls take this chance to leave, and Hyojong sighs, rolling his shoulders back slightly. “Let’s tone the good time down. Are you gonna pay for all those?”

The young man scoffs and fumbles around in his pockets until he finds a small wad of cash, from which he peels three twenties. He shoves them into Hyojong’s chest. “Here, sugar, buy yourself something nice.”

“I think it’s time to cut this guy off, don’t you?” Hyojong says to the bartender, handing him the bills, which the bartender pockets. “We could even go for a walk if you want,” he adds to the young man.

“I’m not going anywhere, I wanna stay,” the young man says, shaking his head. The light catches his hair and Hyojong sees that it’s strawberry blonde, verging on pink. “We’re all having so much fun!” He tries to reach over the counter to grab one of the bottles of booze there from the most recent drink the bartender had made, but Hyojong is faster, grabbing his arm. 

“No, let’s go for a walk,” he says, using his grip on his arm to tug him away from the bar. “Just you and me.”

“I’m sure getting the star treatment, huh? Let go of me, asshole,” the young man mutters, trying to shake Hyojong off, but Hyojong puts his arm around his shoulders firmly and guides him out past the dance floor and to the exit, nodding to the bartender. “I didn’t even do anything wrong, watch me call the fuckin’ cops on you.”

“Do it, that sounds like fun,” Hyojong says, barely refraining from rolling his eyes. This guy is probably on spring break from some stuck-up college, first time out of the nest and he can’t handle all this freedom. Hyojong knows the type all too well. 

“How dare you,” the young man says, his voice slurring and his walk unsteady as Hyojong marches him out to the door. “Do you have any idea who I am? I built this town from the ground up, you hear me?”

“That’s nice,” Hyojong says, pushing the door open with his shoulder. “Don’t come back or we’ll have a real problem. Capisce?”

“Ca-piss off,” the young man complains, stumbling when Hyojong lets go of him. “I’m disappointed, I thought this place was supposed to be cool.”

“It is,” Hyojong says. “It’s pricks like you that make it un-cool. Now get out.”

“Or what, we’ll have a _real problem_?” the young man mocks. Hyojong mentally dubs him Dickwad, although that’s perhaps too kind of a nickname. “You think I’m scared of you? _Do you have any idea who I am_?”

“You said that already,” Hyojong says. “I don’t know, nor do I care. You’re a nuisance and ruining people’s nights, that’s who you are to me, ‘kay? I’ll count to three and if you’re not gone by then—”

“You’ll what, what will you do?” Dickwad breathes, swaying where he stands and bracing himself quickly with a hand on the doorway. “Cough on me, maybe call your mommy? You think I can’t take you?”

Hyojong laughs. “Do _not_ go down that road, princess. This doesn’t have to be hard, c’mon, just scram.”

“Make me.”

“One.” Hyojong waits. Dickwad starts grinning this crooked, handsome grin, and Hyojong sighs. “Two.”

“Do it,” Dickwad taunts, swaying closer. “You won’t do it. I can do anything and you’ll let me. I run this town, you hear me? You’re nothing. I’m like a god. Who are you? You can’t do _anything_.”

“Oh, yeah?” Hyojong says and decks him.

Dickwad, to Hyojong’s immense gratification, falls to the ground immediately, clutching the side of his face. “ _Ow_! What the _fuck_!”

“Thought so,” Hyojong says, watching him with distaste. “Want some more, or do you get it now?”

“Thank fuck, you’re here,” says a breathless voice from behind Hyojong. “He’s still here, too, right? I think he swiped my car keys.” 

Hyojong glances down and sees one of the formerly annoyed girls from the B bar. He looks at Dickwad again, who is now sitting up and gingerly touching the area around his cheek. “A god, huh? A god without a car? Give ‘em,” he says, taking a step out of the club. Dickwad scoots back on the concrete, away from him, and Hyojong reaches down, seizing a handful of his silk shirt and hauling him up slightly. “I said give ‘em.”

Dickwad turns his head to the side and spits, his breath gone all wheezy. Hyojong almost feels bad, but not quite. “Leggo of me,” he says. “Don’t hit me again, I’ll give ‘em, they’re in my back pocket.”

Hyojong drops him and steps back, letting Dickwad stagger to his feet and get the car keys out of his pocket. He holds out his hand for them, and when Dickwad drops them into his palm, he gives them over to the girl, who thanks him effusively and runs back into the club. Then Hyojong turns to look at Dickwad again, who is now leaning against the wall of the alley and catching his breath. He’s probably never been hit before, Hyojong realizes, and his anger turns into more of a kind of disgusted pity than anything. These rich kids should just stay in the nest, he thinks, they don’t know how to live. “Put some ice on it,” he advises. “Go home, sober up. Tomorrow’s a new day.”

“Fuck you,” Dickwad says, his eyes closed. He’s sure to have a hell of a bruise tomorrow, all across the side of that handsome face. 

“Take it easy, man,” Hyojong says, and waits in the doorway as Dickwad pushes off from the wall and lurches down the alley to the main road. Once he’s sure he’s not coming back, he goes back inside the club and closes the door.

After that, the rest of the events of the night seem mild. He separates a couple who are showing a little too much PDA on the floor, talks the DJ-of-the-night out of crowdsurfing, and goes home right at one, just as promised. It seems impossible that just earlier that day he was teasing Hyuna at Disneyworld and he’s actually almost forgotten about it, but the second he walks through the door, she makes it very clear that it’s the first thing on her mind.

“I just want you to know that I hate you so much,” she declares, throwing a paper towel at him, which he dodges. “I’m about to crash but I stayed up just to tell you that I hate you.”

“Aww,” Hyojong says, leaning against the wall to take off his shoes. “Weren’t you gonna tell me about how you hate Rapunzel, too?”

“Oh, my God, this morning I saw her with— wait,” Hyuna says, narrowing her eyes. “Don’t try and distract me. I’m mad at you right now.”

“Get in line,” Hyojong says wearily, taking his blazer off and going over to fall directly onto his bed. 

Hyuna thinks about this for a moment, then gets up and comes over to him. “I’m not actually mad, honey. What happened at work? You want any orange juice?”

“Don’t baby me,” he mumbles, lifting his head slightly off his pillow to talk. “And I finished the orange juice already.”

“I got more,” Hyuna says. “Come on, spit it out, what happened?”

“Nothin’ too wild, just had to kick this dickwad out and he gave me a hard time,” Hyojong says, rolling over onto his back. “The usual.”

“Give me names and locations, I’ll go kick his ass for you,” Hyuna says, cracking her knuckles, and Hyojong laughs quietly.

“I did that already,” he says, scrunching his face up to hold back more laughter when Hyuna wolf-whistles. “Stop, that’s not hot, you’re so weird.”

“I literally can’t picture you beating anyone up, that’s all,” Hyuna shrugs. “So in my mind you turn into, like, Channing Tatum to make it work. Don’t question it.”

“I’m not questioning it,” Hyojong says. He closes his eyes for a second, and soon feels Hyuna’s light touch on his forehead. “No, I’m okay.”

“He didn’t hit you back, did he?”

“Nah. I’m okay, seriously.”

Hyuna is quiet for a while, petting Hyojong’s hair back from his forehead. “Thanks for coming to see me today. I had a really shitty morning.”

“I figured,” Hyojong says, not opening his eyes. “I’m not so glad I came, though. The food was okay, but the service was _terrible_.”

Hyuna pinches his cheek, and Hyojong grins, shouldering her touch away. “See if I ever try and baby you again,” she says, getting up off the bed and going into the kitchen. “There’s snacks, but you’ll have to get them yourself, I’m going to bed.”

Hyojong thinks she sounds a little weird, but he doesn’t comment. “Are you working all day tomorrow?”

“Half-day,” Hyuna says, rustling around in the kitchen. “But I’m going to a thing after work. I’ll be back at, like, five.”

“A thing?”

“Mhm. A thing.” She starts munching on something crunchy, and Hyojong doesn’t press the issue. If she wanted to tell him, she’d tell him. Maybe it’s some very silly team building exercise and she’s embarrassed about it. Or maybe it’s another audition to be a princess, which she’ll never admit to doing. 

“So I’ll see you later, then,” Hyojong says, opening his eyes and turning his head to watch her moving around in the kitchen. “I’ll make dinner if you want.”

“I don’t care, I probably won’t be hungry,” Hyuna shrugs, putting whatever she was eating back into the cabinet. “Okay, I’m going to bed. Good night, sweet dreams, you’re the biggest buffest boy in the world.”

“No, you are,” Hyojong says, closing his eyes again. He barely has the presence of mind to strip down before crawling into bed, all his residual irritation from his shift at work melting away once he’s curled up under the covers and thinking about how cozy Hyuna probably is right now, how she was petting his hair earlier. He doesn’t think about Dickwad, and he doesn’t think about Hyuna’s email. He just sleeps.

The apartment is empty when he wakes up, and he has a sinking feeling about having to go to work later as he blinks at the ceiling before he remembers that it’s his day off and lights up in a grin. He spends the whole day on the couch watching Ghost Adventures and eating chips after a solid morning workout, and he’s lost track of time so thoroughly that he’s shocked when the door unlocks and Hyuna comes home. “Shit, is it five already?” he says, checking his phone.

“No, we finished early,” Hyuna says. Her voice sounds very strange and her hair is down so Hyojong can’t see her whole face. “How was your day?”

“What’s wrong?” Hyojong says instead of answering, getting up and going over to her. “Hyuna, what’s wrong?”

Hyuna covers her face with her hands for a second, and Hyojong can see that she’s trembling.

“What is it?” he prompts, taking a step closer. His heart is racing; he’s never seen her this upset before.

She takes a deep breath. “It was him,” she says into her hands. “It was Hui. We met up and it was really him.”

Hyojong doesn’t understand until he does, and then it feels like he’s been dunked in an ice bath and it’s been too long since he’s come up for air. “It was?”

Hyuna nods, scrubbing her hands down her cheeks before going over to sit on the couch. “I’m sorry for lying to you,” she says hesitantly. “I just— I knew you wouldn’t want me to go alone, but I knew I needed to.”

Hyojong hadn’t even been thinking about that, but now that he is, he’s retroactively worried for her safety and he frowns. “So what happened?” he says, going to sit next to her. She leans her head on his shoulder immediately, and he realizes why her voice sounds like that — she’s been crying. 

“He— well, it was really him,” she says, quiet. “I knew it was even from the email. I wrote him back and said okay and he said when and where and we had lunch today except I didn’t eat anything.”

Hyojong waits for her to say something else, but she doesn’t. “And?” he says. “How is he?”

“I don’t know,” Hyuna says, starting to shake again. Her breath hiccups out of her and she grabs onto Hyojong’s shirt. “I couldn’t tell. I can’t read him anymore, it’s been too long. I haven’t seen him for twelve years, you know that? Almost half my life. He wants— he asked—“

Hyojong starts feeling cold again, a chill seeping in from his skin to his bones. “What did he ask?”

“There’s a boat,” Hyuna says thickly. “His family’s boat, his yacht. He needs to sail it to South America, he told me where exactly but I forgot. He wants me to go with him.” She buries her face in Hyojong’s shoulder and goes quiet.

“And you said no?” Hyojong says. Selfish. Stupid. He should have known Hyuna wouldn’t stay with him forever. He should have known it was too good to last.

“I didn’t say yes,” Hyuna corrects, and the knot in Hyojong’s chest loosens just slightly. “I said— I said it was too soon, I couldn’t decide just like that, and I still have my lease and I can’t just leave, and you’re here, too, I can’t just leave you.”

That doesn’t make Hyojong feel better. “But you’re considering it,” he clarifies.

Hyuna doesn't say anything. Hyojong feels worse again.

“I can’t believe it was really him,” Hyuna says, very, very quietly, after a while. “After everything, he came back. He didn’t say anything about how long it had been or anything, he just sat down and said hi and that he liked what I’d done with my hair.”

Hyojong remembers how long it had taken for the red dye to fade from the skin of his forearms and thinks that he’s never hated someone he’s never met before as much as he hates Hui for doing this to Hyuna.

If she weren’t so upset, if _he_ weren’t so upset, it would almost be funny. So cinematic, a long-lost best friend coming back and inviting her on a magical journey across the Caribbean. But it’s not funny at all the way Hyuna curls up against Hyojong’s shoulder and jumps when her phone buzzes. It’s not funny when she says “I told him to give me some time, to come back in, like, four months when our lease is ending.”

“This is your home,” Hyojong says, his heart in his throat. He’s never said anything like that to her, and he probably never will again.

“He needs me,” Hyuna says helplessly. “At least, I think he does.”

Hyojong closes his mouth before he can say anything else and nods. “Four months.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Hyuna says, her tone almost pleading. “I’ll figure something out. Okay?”

“Okay,” Hyojong says, then turns the TV back on. 

As far as days off go, this is definitely the worst one he’s ever had.

Hyuna spends the next week trying to make it up to both of them, in her own way, anyway. This involves doing the laundry, offering to watch Game of Thrones with Hyojong, and buying him fancy Starbucks tea on her way home from work. A week passes, and then a month, and things go back to normal. They act like things are normal, at any rate, until Hyuna really does go back to normal, evidently having forgotten the whole thing altogether.

Hyojong doesn’t forget. It’s like a gunshot wound that didn’t hit any arteries or organs and he’s just slowly bleeding out. How is he supposed to stand by and let this guy who broke Hyuna’s heart take her away from him? Why isn’t he enough to make Hyuna want to stay? He can’t think about it for too long before it makes him want to scream, so he tries not to think about it. But every time he looks at her he thinks about it. He doesn’t bring it up, he doesn’t remind her, he doesn’t try to subliminally message her that she shouldn’t do it, that she should stay here with him. He knows it’s probably just a brief journey, three or four months at most, but he still gets the sense that she won’t come back.

Still, he pays his half of the rent every month, goes to work nearly every night, and thinks that he understands how the inhabitants of Pompeii felt. 

One day about three months after, he comes home from a grocery run and Hyuna is sitting in the living room with someone. This someone has a nice speaking voice and pink hair, and Hyojong recognizes him immediately. “Are you fucking kidding me?” he says flatly, and doesn’t even make eye contact, just goes through to the kitchen to unload the groceries. He hears Dickwad laughing, and Hyuna gets up to follow Hyojong, confused.

“What? I know I should have told you he was coming, but— that’s Hui, can you believe it? He really came back, like he said he would!” she says, practically glowing.

Hyojong can barely see. His vision has gone black and gold and spotty. He puts the milk in the fridge and the pasta in the cupboard. “He sure did,” he says. 

“Hyuna, you didn’t tell me your roommate moonlights as a bouncer at a sad little club downtown,” Dickwad says, leaning in the doorway of the kitchen.

“I don’t _moonlight_ , that’s my job. J-O-B, like steady employment for money? I know that’s a new concept to you,” Hyojong says, “but try and keep up.”

Hyuna puts her hands on her hips. “What’s happening here?” she demands. “Do you two know each other?”

“Remember that shiner I had last time?” Dickwad says, eyeing Hyojong. “Guess whose pretty fists gave me that?”

“Yeah, remember the dickwad I had to kick out?” Hyojong says, closing the fridge. “Guess who.”

“No way,” Hyuna says, looking between them. “Oh, great! I don’t have to do introductions! Wow, what a coincidence.”

“Wow,” Hyojong echoes, laughing. “Great.”

Hyuna is chewing her lip again, though, and even though she’s smiling she looks nervous and on-edge, so Hyojong relents. He can be the bigger man for her sake. 

“I’m Hyojong,” he says. “Gotten punched any more recently?”

“No,” Dickwad says, baring his teeth in a smile. “I’m Hwitaek. My reputation precedes me, I hope.”

“Mhm. You’re a liar and a nobody, that’s what we think of you around these parts,” Hyojong says. “Move, _Hwitaek_ , you’re in my way.”

“Dawn, can I talk to you for a second?” Hyuna says, going after him when Hyojong leaves the kitchen. “In private? Hui, don’t mess with any of the stuff, I know you hate Disney but just leave it alone.”

“Fine,” Hyojong says, and lets Hyuna take him by the arm and lead him through to her room. He can feel Hwitaek watching them and the back of his neck prickles. 

Hyuna closes the door behind them and crosses her arms, exhaling quickly. “Talk to me. What’s going on? I get that he was a dick at the club, but I’ve never seen you like this—”

“I don’t trust him,” Hyojong says immediately. “He hurt you real bad once, ran out and didn’t look back. He’s gonna do it again if you let him.”

“That was years ago,” Hyuna says. “I’m still mad at him, and I haven’t forgiven him, but—”

“But what? He’s a different person than who you knew, you have no idea how he’s changed. You don’t know him anymore. He hurt you, I don’t get it, why are you trusting him?” Hyojong says. He knows he sounds irrational and childish, but all the feelings he’s been keeping bottled up for the past four months are breaking free and he can’t help himself. 

“Honey, I’m going to tell him no, I’m not going,” Hyuna says, reaching out for Hyojong, and Hyojong goes to her immediately, pulling her into his arms. “I’m not going to leave you. Honey, it’s okay. It’s okay.”

Hyojong holds her tightly and wishes she would stop petting his hair like that because it only makes him feel worse. 

“I’m not going anywhere, not without you,” Hyuna murmurs, up on her toes just a little so she can hug him better. “I’m excited to see him because I missed him, but I’m still mad at him, and I’m not going to leave you. Honey. It’s you and me against the world, you think I’d leave you? He needs me, but— I’m not going, I wouldn’t go. It’s okay, honey, please don’t be upset.” She curls her hand in his hair, holding onto him close, and he closes his eyes and believes her.

She lets go after a while and steps back. “Are you okay?”

Hyojong nods and opens her door. Hyuna goes out first, squeezing his hand gently, and he follows. He knows he’s being so stupid and he hates himself for it, but Hyuna seems to be on the same page as he is, taking it just as seriously. Hwitaek is sitting on the couch in the living room when they emerge, and the smile he sends Hyuna’s way is blinding, with a charming hint of self-consciousness. Hyojong feels sick. “I overreacted,” he says graciously, standing up and going over to them. “And that night, I was super duper drunk. No hard feelings, okay? And you can call me Hui if you want.”

Hyojong snorts, but a nudge from Hyuna makes him remember his manners. “Whatever,” he says, which is the most he can do, then returns to the kitchen.

Hyuna sits back down on the couch with Hwitaek. “Are you hungry or anything? I forgot to ask,” she says, smiling.

“No, thank you, I ate earlier,” Hwitaek says. “I just wanted to, you know, check in again. We’re ready to go any time, I had the boat inspection done last week and it went great, no problems. I told you about it, right? It’s roomy, you’ll love it. And it’s beautiful, too, it’s got that retro-modern feel. I don’t know much about the specs or anything, but I can get that information if you want it, how long it is and things like that. There’s, uh, three sleeper cabins, the galley is a good size, it’s practically a full kitchen— oh, and there’s a real shower—” He continues in this vein for a while, and Hyojong stands by the fridge and fumes. Finally, Hwitaek seems to wind down, and he finishes, “So? What do you think?”

Hyojong stops moving, stops his heart from beating as he waits for Hyuna’s answer.

“Hui…” Hyuna sighs. “I don’t think I can, is the thing. I can’t.”

“Why not?” Hwitaek replies immediately, that charming softness gone from his voice. “I thought you said your lease was ending and you didn’t care about keeping your job.”

Hyojong winces but stays quiet, waiting. 

“I’m not leaving Hyojong,” Hyuna says, her voice firm and clear. “I’m not. I’m sorry. You left me and I’m not going to do that to someone else. That’s not what friends do.”

Hwitaek is quiet for a moment, then he laughs humorlessly. “Fine. I get it.” He stands up, dusting off his impeccable trousers. “He can come, too,” he adds dismissively, heading for the door.

Hyuna drops the cup she’s holding and gets to her feet. “ _What_?”

“I told you, the boat has three rooms,” Hwitaek says. “You think I care if your pet wallflower is there? I just can’t sail it alone.”

“Hui, are you being serious?” Hyuna says, and Hyojong knows she’s going to say yes, this changes everything, she’s going to say yes and she’s going to ask him to come with her and he’s going to have to say yes, too. “Tell me if you’re being serious.”

“I’m being serious,” Hwitaek says flatly. “Get back to me within the week. Quit your job. I’ll tell you where the boat is and we’ll go.”

“Hui—”

“It was nice seeing you today,” Hui says, and grabs his jacket from a hook by the door and leaves.

Hyuna stands in front of the closed door, then very, very slowly walks over to the kitchen. She looks at Hyojong, her eyes shining, and Hyojong can picture the ash-covered houses of Pompeii, the mummified bodies frozen in time, caught unawares and yet so forewarned by this unstoppable force.

Hyuna puts in her two weeks the next day, as does Hyojong. He tells the security company that he might be back, he just doesn’t know when, and they tell him they’ll probably have something when he returns, they just don’t know if they can promise. Hyuna is walking on air all the time now, and she has brunch with Hui that weekend. Hyojong politely declines his invitation. He’s still trying to figure out how to tell his mom what he’s going to be doing for the next few months.

Hyuna buys a big sun hat and a few new bathing suits, whereas all Hyojong does is get some new sunscreen. And the night before they’re meant to leave, Hyojong dyes her hair for her, the kind of blinding, vibrant red that she’s always wanted but was never allowed to have. He wears gloves so the dye doesn’t stain his fingers, and he washes her hair like it’s something sacred. When it’s done, she spends ten minutes cooing at her reflection in the mirror and telling Hyojong she owes him her life. Hyojong’s just happy she’s happy, but the bright red does suit her. He touches up his roots, too, and brings a small container of hair bleach and toner with him in his carpetbag just in case he needs to do it again before they get back.

Hyuna takes care of everything with their landlord, paying their last month’s rent in full herself, and she and Hyojong both decide that they don’t have anything so priceless that they’d like to put it in storage until they get back. Whoever the next tenant is, they can enjoy the collection of lumpy Daffy Duck dolls and collectible lanyards and Hawaiian shirts and Mickey Mouse hats they’re leaving behind. Hyuna’s suitcase is huge, but Hyojong doesn’t have that many clothes and he’s a minimalist anyway. They’re meeting Hwitaek at ten in the morning, anchors away at eleven. Hyojong has never even been on a boat before, not that he can remember. Hyuna has been on this specific boat, but that was so long ago that she doesn’t remember it much, either. It’s an hour and a half to Tampa, where the boat is currently anchored, and they take an early morning bus, Hyuna dozing on Hyojong’s shoulder, Hyojong resting his head on the window.

The _Seahorse_ is at the very end of the marina, and Hwitaek is standing on the dock next to it and wearing a very stupid blouse. Hyuna hugs him, and Hyojong looks away, glancing over the boat instead. It’s compact and sleek, just as Hui had said. Hyojong doesn’t know shit about boats, but as far as small yachts go, this one is probably pretty nice. Expensive. He half-wonders why Hui needs it sailed to Brazil, but abruptly decides he doesn’t care. He’s here for Hyuna, that’s it, and the less he knows about Hui, the better.

“So give me the grand tour!” Hyuna says, and Hui hops onto the boat and offers her a hand so she can board. She accepts the hand, and Hyojong goes on after her with their bags. “When did we go on that trip, fifth grade?”

“Well, I was in fourth. Anyway, it’s pretty straightforward,” Hwitaek shrugs. “This is the main deck. That’s the, uh, shit, I always get port and starboard confused. Anyway, here’s one of the steering wheels, there’s another one inside in case the weather gets bad. Nice dining area out here, and there’s a drop ladder down the back for when you wanna go swimming if the water’s nice. Let’s go down, I’ll show you to your suite.”

“Oh, do I get the master?” Hyuna grins, following Hui down below deck, but Hyojong stays above, looking out over the water. Maybe he’ll get seasick and they’ll have to throw him overboard or turn back and leave him somewhere, on a deserted island where it’ll just be him and the seagulls. He sets the bags down and follows Hyuna. What else is he supposed to do?

“—which is through here,” Hui is saying. “I filled up the water tank and we should be fine but I have a desalination machine just in case we’re really running low. It’s big, right?”

“It’s really nice,” Hyuna agrees. “Better than our shower at home, right, Dawn?”

Hyojong makes a noncommittal noise, glancing over at the shower. Hui looks at him curiously, then looks away, all his attention on Hyuna again. “The master’s through here. You can have it if you want it,” he says, showing her the door. She opens it and goes in, making a happy noise and going over to spread out on the bed. “It’s great, right?”

“Tour ends here, I’m claiming this,” Hyuna declares. “I don’t care if you actually wanted it, you broke my heart when I was young and vulnerable and therefore I’m entitled to whatever I want.”

“Jesus,” Hui laughs, rubbing the back of his neck with that fake self-conscious air again. “Fine, fine, you can have it. I offered it, didn’t I?”

“I’m just saying,” Hyuna says, rolling around on the bed. Her hair looks like spilled paint across the sheets and Hyojong is counting down how much time she has left to change her mind about all this. “Where are the other rooms?”

“Downstairs along the sides, wanna see? This way,” Hui says, stepping out and pointing down the stairs on either side. “Hyojong, I’ll take whichever one you don’t want.”

“What a gentleman,” Hyojong can’t help but say. 

“That’s me,” Hwitaek says, rolling his eyes. “You think you’re cute when you’re holding a grudge, huh? Just pick a room, it’s not that deep.”

“That one,” Hyojong says, gesturing vaguely. “I don’t care.”

“Fine,” Hwitaek sighs. “There’s another bathroom that way, but there’s no shower, only a sink. Any questions?”

“Did you get food?” Hyuna says, meandering through to the indoor seating area and lying down on one of the seats adjacent to the small dining table. 

“I did, enough to last us about a week, and that’s how long it’ll take us to get to the Yucatán area, anyway,” Hwitaek nods. “Um, in case you were wondering, there’s a built-in autopilot, but I also have GPS and maps and stuff. The autopilot’s just so we don’t crash into anything.”

“I’ve been watching a ton of sailing videos on YouTube, I’m practically an expert,” Hyuna assures him. “Between the two of us, we’ll be the next Magellans. Magelli?”

“Just one collective Magellan, I think,” Hui says pensively, and Hyojong can’t take it anymore, so he goes back up to the main deck, standing in the shade of one of the deck coverings. He’s only out there for a couple of minutes before Hyuna comes up, too, and puts an arm around his waist.

“It’ll be fun,” she says. “Don’t we have fun together?”

Hyojong nods, resting his head on top of hers for a second until he hears footsteps going up and pulls away. “Don’t worry about me,” he says with a smile. “I’m okay. Don’t worry.”

“Should we go, then?” Hui calls, and Hyuna turns around to grin at him.

“We should!”

Under their feet, the engine roars to life, and Hui goes over to unhitch the boat from the dock. Hyojong grasps the railing along the front of the boat just in time, because then the boat moves forward quickly and smoothly, cutting through the small waves near the marina as it heads for open water. Hyuna makes her way to where Hui is and leans over his shoulder, watching him steer, and Hyojong just watches the water.

Hyojong loses track of how much time passes as he watches Florida getting farther and farther away. He eventually gets sick of watching it and goes below deck to put sunscreen on his arms, and Hyuna comes down, too, looking at him with big, concerned eyes. “What’s up?”

“Not much,” Hyojong says. “What’s up with you?”

“Just chilling,” Hyuna shrugs. “Hey, have you ever driven a really big car before?”

Hyojong thinks he knows where this is heading, and he already knows he’ll say yes, so he doesn’t know why she has to work up to it like this. “Yeah, that van, back in college. You remember.”

“Right,” Hyuna says, and bites her lip. “So… we can’t just let the boat drift at night, we’ll end up somewhere random, and the reason Hui needed another person onboard with him was so he could—”

“I’ll do it,” Hyojong says, cutting her off. “Just show me how.”

Hyuna beams, coming over to ruffle Hyojong’s hair. “You’re a star, Dawnie! And you can sleep early, you’re used to that, anyway.”

“No problem,” Hyojong says, looking out, up the stairs to where he can see part of Hui’s arm and the steering wheel.

“Come on, I’ll show you,” Hyuna says, putting her arm through Hyojong’s. “Well, Hui will show you. Maybe you and I can trade off, too.”

That won’t happen, because there’s no way Hyojong will make Hyuna take the night shift. Hui looks up from the controls when Hyuna and Hyojong emerge from below deck, and he smiles, first at Hyuna, then at Hyojong. “So what do you think of it?” he asks, looking absurdly proud of a boat that has no personal touches to speak of.

“It sure is a rich kid’s yacht,” Hyojong says. “Show me how to work it.”

Hui’s smile falters for a second, but he hides it well, gesturing to the wheel. “It’s like a car. You can set cruise control, kinda, so it won’t go faster or slower, and just— see the compass here? Keep us pointed southwest, I’ll tell you exactly the degrees when I look them up. Oh, and thank you so much for helping.”

Hyojong leans over to see all the dials and controls Hui points out, then nods and leans away again. “Got it. Just give me a heads-up for when I’m taking over.”

“He can go so long without sleep,” Hyuna tells Hwitaek, patting Hyojong’s shoulder proudly. “But he shouldn’t! When do you think you’ll be done for the day? So he can sleep before then.”

Hyojong usually doesn’t mind being spoken about like he’s Hyuna’s pet or something, but he does in front of Hui. He can tell Hui thinks it’s funny, too; there’s a glint in his eyes that feels definitely mocking when he says, “Probably just after sunset, and then I’ll jump back in at sunrise.”

“Go nap,” Hyuna suggests, looking up at Hyojong. “I’ll come get you.”

“Fine,” Hyojong says. He goes back below deck and meanders through the dining room before going down the stairs to one of the bedrooms. He’s not sure if this is the one he pointed out to Hui earlier, but he doesn’t care. Above him, he hears Hui say something and it makes Hyuna laugh, and Hyojong runs his fingers along the hardwood siding of the wall as he walks down, feeling dizzy. When he and Hyuna met, she was about to graduate from college and he was only in his sophomore year, but she still never let him feel left out among her cool older friends, always making a point to include him, even highlight him. He doesn’t want the attention, all he wants is to be by Hyuna’s side, and now is the first time in all the years he’s known her that he feels like she doesn’t want or need him there. She’s leaving him out, intentionally or unintentionally, and Hyojong feels like a preschooler crying over sandcastles at the playground and not a grown man with a best friend who has another best friend, too. 

When he makes it to the bedroom — small but big enough for him, sheets on the bed already — he takes off his shirt and opens one of the little windows so he can get some fresh air before lying down right on top of the comforter. He’s not tired but he knows he needs sleep, and the rocking of the boat and the low humming of the engine hypnotize him soon enough. He and his mind have had their disagreements over the years, but today it decides to be merciful and his sleep is dreamless and deep, only disrupted when someone opens the door and says, “Oh.”

Hyojong sits up without opening his eyes and hits his head on a low beam. “Fuck,” he says, rubbing his forehead. “What?”

“I thought you said you wanted the other room.” It’s Hui, and Hyojong cracks his eyes open to see him.

“Did I? I forgot which was which,” Hyojong says. He yawns, rubbing his forehead again. “Is it time yet?”

“No,” Hui says, backing out of the room. He has a new expression on his face, but Hyojong doesn’t care enough to decipher it, and his eyes are kind of flickering. “Sleep tight, don’t let the bedbugs bite.”

“If you’re telling me there are bedbugs on this fucking yacht,” Hyojong says sharply, but Hui laughs, shaking his head.

“It’s just an idiom, relax. Go back to sleep, I’ll have Hyuna get you later.”

Hyojong doesn’t like the way he’s talking about her. He doesn’t even deserve to have her name in his mouth. He doesn’t say that, though, just lies back down and tries to go back to sleep.

He falls asleep without meaning to, and the next time he wakes up, it’s because Hyuna is gently pushing at his shoulder. “Dawnie,” she whispers, poking him. “Wake up, are you hungry? We made pasta. And you can drive soon if you’re ready.”

Hyojong sits up carefully so as not to hit his head again, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. “I could eat,” he says. He looks at Hyuna, and she looks tired and still kind of anxious, but happier. “Where are we?”

“Somewhere in the Gulf of Mexico, and we’re not going very fast, so you can take it easy tonight,” Hyuna says, and she smiles affectionately at Hyojong’s shoulders. “Let’s go, before the food gets cold.”

Hyojong nods and scoots to the edge of the bed, finding his shirt and pulling it back on. “How are things?”

“Great! I saw a dolphin!” Hyuna says, standing in the doorway impatiently. “And I think my nose is sunburnt already.”

Hyojong gets up and leans in to see, and she tilts her face up to make it easier. “Nah. You’ll freckle, maybe.”

“Cute,” Hyuna says, then turns and goes up the stairs to the dining room. “Look, honey, with your schedule, you’ll be having dinner for breakfast and breakfast for dinner.”

Hyojong tries to make that make sense in his head and gives up. “Neat.” He’s hungrier than he thought, though, and the cabin looks better in the dim, warm light of the sunset than it had before. He sits down at the table and then gets up again so he can make himself a plate of food, and Hyuna sits next to him and rambles about the weather and their journey and the stops they’ll have to make to refuel and get food, and all the while the boat keeps going, taking them further and further away from home.

Finally, they both finish eating, and Hyuna takes Hyojong up to the main deck. “And if it gets cold you can go to the inside one, just flip, um, this switch to turn over the controls,” she says, pointing. “Right?”

“Right,” Hui says, hopping down from the chair and making a grand gesture to the steering wheel. “It’s all yours, big guy.”

Hyojong remembers what it was like to punch him and thinks about that for a second. “Okay,” he says. “If something goes wrong, I’ll let you know.”

“See you in a few hours,” Hui says, patting Hyojong’s shoulder as he walks past. Hyojong doesn’t shake him off, but he hates being condescended to, and the only thing that keeps him from snapping at Hui is Hyuna being right there. 

“Good night,” Hyojong says directly to Hyuna, and she nods, smiling up at him. 

“If you get lonely, come get me, okay? You can wake me up,” she says, going in for a small hug. “Have fun. I’ll get you a cool captain hat whenever we stop at a gift shop somewhere.”

“Okay,” Hyojong says, smiling down at her for a second, and then she goes below deck to bed. He sits in the chair and puts his hands on the wheel, feeling the hum of the engine through it, and glances at the compass. Southwest, he remembers. He can picture the general shape of the Gulf in his mind and he knows that they’ll run into land inevitably regardless of what direction they go in, but for Hyuna’s sake, he won’t take them off-course. 

The night is long and clear and cool, and when the sun has fully set Hyojong watches the stars coming out one by one. He hasn’t seen this many in one place since he left home, where the sky looked like this, too. The water is quiet except for the very, very distant call of a foghorn, probably a cruise ship. Hyojong has always been able to spend hours doing absolutely nothing, and now is when that skill comes in handy — he doesn’t need music or a TV show playing to keep him occupied, he just stares out at the water and drives the _Seahorse_ southwest.

He doesn’t think about anything, either. What is there to think about?

The sun starts to come up, and a rumpled Hui emerges eventually, long after the sun has established itself in the sky. “Hyuna’s making coffee,” he says instead of any other greeting. “Go, I got it from here.”

Hyojong slips out of the way and goes below deck, his legs aching from so long without movement. Hyuna is in the kitchen, struggling with a French press, and Hyojong yawns to announce his presence. She turns around and waves at him, smiling with her sleepy face, and gestures for him to go sit down. He doesn’t, though, instead coming over to lean against the counter to keep her company. “Good morning,” he says. “Sleep okay?”

“Mhm, someone was keeping the boat nice and steady so I slept great,” Hyuna says, grinning. “Is this a toaster oven or a dishwasher, do you think?”

Hyojong leans over to see. “Uh… toaster oven.”

“Oh, no,” Hyuna says, face falling. “I put a mug in it already.”

Hyojong laughs quietly, rubbing a hand over his face. “Toasty. Crunchy. Perfect.”

“You’re sleepy, huh,” Hyuna says. “Well, you can have some toast and maybe an egg if I can figure out how this stove works, then go to bed. Oh, and Hui showed me another room, there’s a library-study type of thing. A lot of books, if you’re in a reading mood. I can tell you where it is.”

“Maybe later,” Hyojong says, then comes into the kitchen to help her with the toaster oven and the stove. He gets a sunny-side-up egg and a piece of toast for his efforts, which he eats quickly and follows with some coffee, even though he doesn’t usually drink it. This is a mistake since he knows he won’t be able to sleep long, now, and will be awake again in a few hours, but he’ll cross that bridge when he gets to it. Hyuna sends him off, and he tracks down the library on his own, picks out a book, then heads to his room. The boat is big enough that he can comfortably avoid Hyuna and Hui both, which he manages to do all day, until the sun is past its zenith and he’s getting hungry again. He goes to the kitchen for a snack, but goes still and quiet when he hears them talking upstairs, and he hears his name.

“—next day, and he said something like ‘I thought I dreamed you!’” Hyuna is saying, her voice fond. Hyojong remembers that, remembers seeing her across the quad and sprinting to her just to see if she was really real after all and being so happy he thought he’d die when he saw that she really was.

“So he was hitting on you,” Hui clarifies, and Hyuna snorts a laugh.

“No! It wasn’t like that. He’s like…” She doesn’t finish that sentence, though, and Hyojong finds a pear in the minifridge, washes it, and sits at the small table to eat and keep listening.

“Anyway, after I graduated I moved back down to Orlando, and when I heard he was planning to move down, too, I asked him to move in with me, and the rest is history,” Hyuna says. “But I don’t know why I told you all that, I wanna hear about you. Or maybe we can take turns. Aren’t you curious about my life?”

“I really am,” Hui says, sounding warm, and Hyojong starts eating the pear, the rocking of the boat starting to pull him under again. “But we can take turns, okay. I don’t know where to start. I went to Cornell—”

Hyuna makes an impressed noise and probably shoves him, because Hui laughs.

“No, it’s not as— my dad wanted me to go to Columbia, but I didn’t get in, and I wanted to go to NYU, but I didn’t get in there, either, so… I settled.”

“Settled for an Ivy!”

“Look, I’m just telling you how it happened. I was a, well, the major’s called ‘policy analysis and management,’ but all that means is that I had to go to a lot of nonprofit events and talk to local politicians, that’s it. And I did a lot of musical theater. That’s really it.” Hui sighs. “Did study abroad, too, and I’ve sort of been backpacking around Europe for a couple years, and then I came back, wanted to go on a trip.”

“How did you find me?” Hyuna says, and her voice sounds soft in the same way Hyojong’s does when he talks to her. Hyojong finishes his pear and folds his arms on the table, resting his forehead on top of them as he listens.

“Facebook,” Hui says, sounding like he’s smiling. “That’s how I knew you were still in Orlando. And I had your email because you never changed it.”

“Why would I change it? I was hoping you’d write me back one day,” Hyuna says, and even though she’s teasing, it’s obvious she really means it. 

Hui is quiet for a while, then says, “Hyuna—”

“Save it,” Hyuna says. “I want you to think really carefully about what you want to say to me about all of that. I don’t want you to just say sorry and think that’s enough. I want to know what happened, I want to know where you went, I want to know why you didn’t tell me.”

“I _have_ been thinking about what I want to say— this whole time, I’ve been—”

“You couldn’t have just talked to me? Whatever you were going through with your family, you couldn’t have told me? Or did you think that saying bye to me would make leaving hurt too much? You’re so stupid.” Hyuna grumbles a few more things under her breath that Hyojong doesn’t quite catch, and he closes his eyes, rooted to the spot even though he doesn’t want to hear anything else about this.

“Kinda,” Hui admits. “I mean, yeah, I’m really stupid, I know, I just meant kinda in that— that saying bye would hurt too much. I already didn’t want to leave, so—”

“You didn’t?” She sounds genuinely shocked.

Hui exhales. “No. I didn’t.”

Neither of them says anything right away, and Hyojong wonders how Hyuna’s face looks now, if she’s smiling or angry. “Okay,” is all she says, so it remains a mystery.

“I didn’t. And I didn’t have a choice, but I think my parents were worried I’d run away if I wanted to stay too much, so they didn’t let me see you all the time, remember? And by the time we were packing up I couldn’t tell you because you’d be mad at me for not telling you earlier and then…”

Hyojong doesn’t fall asleep on purpose, but he wakes up some time later from Hyuna’s hair gently tickling his face. He’s curled up on the seats now, one arm hanging off and brushing the floor.

“Dawnie,” Hyuna whispers, running her fingers over his arm. “Dawn, honey, you can’t sleep here, you’ll fuck up your back. Go to bed, I’ll steer tonight, you rest.”

Hyojong makes a bleary noise and sits up, and he can feel Hyuna’s worried eyes on him. “No. I’ll do it.”

“It’s okay,” Hyuna murmurs, and when he looks at her she can see that she looks about as sad as Hyojong feels. “How long were you out here for?”

“I dunno,” Hyojong says. He tips forward and presses his face into her shoulder for a moment but pulls away before she can even put her arms around him. “I’m okay. I’m sorry. Don’t worry, I’m okay. Okay? Don’t worry or you’ll get wrinkles.”

Hyuna makes an offended noise and feels her own cheeks, testing for wrinkles, and Hyojong smiles at her, then gets up and goes out to stand on the main deck for a while, letting the air wake him up further. Hui says something to him in greeting, but Hyojong doesn’t even hear it, going over to sit near the back of the boat so the spray generated by the waves will brush over him occasionally. 

He doesn’t know why he’s so scared, why he’s so upset. He’s never heard Hyuna tell the story of how they met before, but she can tell it if she wants, it’s her story, too. Maybe it’s because she was telling Hui about it and not someone else. And Hui had to go and make a joke like it wasn’t the most precious thing in Hyojong’s life, the only true thing he knows, like he’s allowed to come back into Hyuna’s world after twelve years and act like nothing has changed. Hyojong looks over his shoulder and sees Hui sitting at the wheel, barefoot and messy-haired still, and he again thinks back to hitting him, the stupid shit Hui had been saying about how he built the town with his own two golden hands or whatever. Makes sense that he’s an heir to an unfathomable empire and owns his very own yacht. 

A small voice in the back of Hyojong’s head asks why she likes Hui, anyway, what a whiny good-looking rich boy like him could possibly have to offer someone like Hyuna. Maybe he was different as a kid. But if she still wants to be his friend now, he clearly can’t have changed all that much. Hyojong wonders what his life would have been like had he known Hyuna from the time he was three, but stops thinking about it when it starts hurting too much.

“You didn’t tell me you got booze!” Hyuna’s delighted voice says from inside, and she soon emerges with a bottle of rum, doing a wiggly little dance. “You really thought of everything, didn’t you?”

“That’s strictly for use as a disinfectant,” Hui grins. “I’m cutting down, anyway, so have as much as you want.”

Hyojong rolls his eyes and gets up, coming over to see, one hand braced on the railing so he doesn’t stumble. Hui looks at him and makes a face he probably thinks is cute and which is likely intended to be apologetic, but Hyojong ignores it. 

“You’re kidding about the disinfectant, right? I was really looking forward to living the pirate life and drinking this straight from the bottle,” Hyuna says. “Dawn, what do you think?”

“Pirates all had scurvy,” Hyojong says, pushing his hair back from his face and squinting at the label on the bottle. “You’d make a good parrot, though.”

“On your shoulder? Just repeating after you? I’ll be saying ‘whatever’ and ‘uh huh’ for the rest of my life,” Hyuna teases, “with the occasional ‘fuck’ thrown in there.”

“Sounds like a good time,” Hyojong says. He doesn’t feel comfortable joking around with Hyuna right in front of Hui, so he leaves it at that, glancing out over the water. He thinks he sees some land in the distance, but it’s probably a mirage.

“With shoulders like that? Definitely,” Hui says, and before Hyojong can react, Hyuna does, reaching up to pinch his ear.

“Don’t hit on my roommate!” she scolds, but she’s laughing anyway, leaning against his chair.

“Why, would you rather I hit on you instead?” Hui shrugs, which makes Hyuna laugh harder, smacking his arm this time instead. Hyojong doesn’t see what’s so funny, though, and when Hui catches his eye, he must look very murderous or something, because Hui raises his eyebrows and shuts up fast. “I was just joking, jeez.”

“He does have nice shoulders, though,” Hyuna says thoughtfully, reaching out to gently push at Hyojong’s shoulder, but he’s not in the mood, so he steps away. Hyuna’s always affectionate with him and always has been, from the first night they met until now, but it feels different when there’s someone watching.

“Anyway, about the booze, there’s other drinks, too,” Hui says. “A ton of juice. You like juice?”

“I love juice,” Hyuna says. “I keep trying to convince Dawn to get a juicer but he says we should get a blender instead.”

“It’s more practical,” Hyojong says from a little ways away, even though he was pretending not to listen. “You can make juice in a blender. You can’t make a blend in a juicer.”

“See? He says that every time,” Hyuna sighs. “I don’t even know what he means by _a blend_ , I think he’s trying to be funny.”

“Probably,” Hui agrees with a sidelong glance over at Hyojong. “But we have juice here. I don’t know if it’s the kind you like, I got a lot. Orange, grapefruit, apple, uh, cran-apple. No pulp, obviously.”

“You remembered!” Hyuna says, gasping. “And I only ever told you that once!”

“Of course I remembered, you were so insistent about it,” Hui laughs. “I thought you were allergic but no, you just really hated pulp.”

“Pulp,” Hyuna says seriously, “is gross. That was really only one time, right? At my birthday party?”

“Yeah. Eighth, pretty sure. We had a sleepover and my mom brought us orange juice in the morning and you almost cried, how could I forget?”

“Aww!” Hyuna coos. “I remember, too, ‘cause that was one of our last sleepovers ever.”

Hui thinks about it for a second, then nods. “You liked my pajamas, but—”

“Did you ever have braces?” Hyuna interrupts suddenly. Hyojong gets the sense this will go on for a while, so he decides to explore, going up the narrow set of steps to the small upper deck of the yacht. He finds a flat place and lies down on his back, eyes closed, and belatedly remembers that he should have put sunscreen on.

“Braces? Yeah, but not for very long,” Hui replies. “Why?”

“Because you were such a cute kid and you grew up so hot, so you had to have an awkward in-between stage, otherwise it’s not fair,” Hyuna says. “I missed out on your teenage years! Did you ever have an emo phase? Oh, wait, you were into theater, probably not. Any embarrassing haircuts?”

“I think it’ll just be faster if I show you pictures,” Hui says, amused, which makes Hyuna shriek happily.

“Fuck yes! I can show you some of me if you really want, but I honestly haven’t changed,” she sighs.

“Yes, you have,” Hui says, his voice much gentler, and Hyuna mumbles something small and shy, then they both go quiet. 

Hyojong doesn’t know how much longer he can take this. Maybe when they get to Mexico he’ll ask to stay there and they can go on without him. They don’t need him, anyway, they’ve clearly got enough recollections about their shared childhood to last for several trips across the Caribbean. 

_We have memories, too,_ Hyojong thinks to himself. Studying together, meeting up for dinner past midnight, and that was only at college, the last three months before her graduation. Holding her trembling hands an hour before she would walk the stage to get her diploma and telling her that he was sure life would bring them together again someday. And then this whole past year, the miracle of seeing her every day, the one person who knows him better than anyone else. Their impromptu dance parties, themed dinners whenever Hyuna gets the energy to plan something, shopping together, falling asleep on the couch after a _Twilight_ marathon. So what if Hui skinned his knees when he was four and the only person he’d let put bandaids on him was Hyuna? So what if they learned how to ride bikes together? Hui knew her for longer, but Hyojong has more. 

They’re still talking down there, arguing playfully about who the best Spice Girl is, and Hyojong sits up slowly and blinks in the bright light, his vision gone all blue. If he’s going to be steering again tonight, he’d better get some sleep, but he’s sick of sleeping. He wishes he could be happy about this trip and be happy for Hyuna — since she’s clearly having the time of her life now that Hui’s back — but he doesn’t like open water and he doesn’t like Hui, and not even Hyuna’s presence can lift his mood. He comes back downstairs and finds Hui there alone, Hyuna having evidently gone inside to read or eat or something. Hui nods at him, then conversationally says, “What’s your problem?”

Hyojong doesn’t want to have this talk, but there’s probably no way out of it. “Which one? I have a lot,” he says. 

“I mean, why don’t you like me? Everyone likes me,” Hui says, smiling. His tone is totally serious; he isn’t used to hearing ‘no’ from anyone and he’s not used to not being the center of attention.

“Right,” Hyojong says. “And you built this town from the ground up, I heard you the first time.”

To his surprise, Hui goes pink to match his hair. “I was _really_ drunk, and it was— it was a bad night.”

“I didn’t ask,” Hyojong says. “And I don’t like you, you’re right. But I don’t have to. I’m here for Hyuna. Unlike some people.”

Hui stops pretending to be bashful and frowns. “What? Are you talking about me?”

“No, the other mysterious long-lost douchebag friend who showed up out of nowhere demanding she turn her life upside down for him and can’t even give her a decent explanation about why.”

Hui’s face goes through a series of expressions quickly, settling on incredulous. “Hyuna,” he says, leaning over to speak down into the galley, “come call your guard dog off before he says something he regrets.”

“Do you need a reminder of the last time you tried to speak like that to me?” Hyojong says, but he doesn’t want to fight, he’s too fucking tired to fight and he thinks he’s getting a sunburn, too. So he just goes inside without waiting to hear what else Hui has to say. 

“My what?” Hyuna says, coming up to the dining room. She’s wearing her big sunhat, and when she sees Hyojong’s face, she looks crestfallen. “Oh, you didn’t fight again, did you?”

Hyojong shakes his head before he can say something idiotic like ‘he started it,’ but Hyuna still looks disappointed.

“Play nice,” she says softly, coming up to him and putting her hands on his shoulders. “You don’t even know him. Give him a chance, okay? You think I would be best friends for nine years with someone shitty? Gimme some credit, c’mon.” She looks searchingly up at him and he exhales, glancing away.

“I won’t start anything,” he says after a moment. That’s the best he can do, anyway, unless Hui puts one Gucci-slippered toe out of line, in which case anything is fair game.

Hyuna stays like that for another second, then lets go. “Go put some sunscreen on if you’re gonna be outside.” She heads up to the main deck, untying her wrap dress as she goes, a trashy paperback in hand. She’s really taken to this whole yacht lifestyle, Hyojong notes with some amusement, as she’s wearing some new bikini and going suntanning on the deck. He doesn’t even feel bitter that he hasn’t been able to and probably never will be able to provide these kinds of luxuries for her; what matters is that she’s getting it now, even if it’s from Hui. What else are filthy rich childhood best friends for? 

Instead of going up, he returns to the library to pick out another book, then can’t resist his urge to snoop and spends some time going through the mostly empty drawers of the large desk on the back wall. There are some postcards, a tourist-oriented informational packet about Curaçao, and a few pennies. In one of the lowest pull-out drawers, Hyojong finds a small, rough engraving, seemingly done with a pen knife. It says ‘Hui!’ in uncertain, crooked Hangul, and Hyojong runs his fingers over it briefly, wondering how old he was when he did it. Either before three or after twelve, since Hyuna’s name seems like it should be beside it but isn’t. But he pulls his hand away quickly and stops thinking about the whole thing altogether. He picks a Stephen King novel to read, then takes it to his room. He only makes it through one chapter before he’s drifting off, though, and he actually gets under the covers this time, closing the small window so it’s not so humid in the cabin. 

When he wakes up it’s dark already, and he curses under his breath, slipping out of bed quickly and heading up to the deck. Hyuna and Hui are both still there, Hyuna wrapped up in one of her big hoodies and Hui with an elbow resting on the steering wheel. They’re sitting close together; they’ve probably been talking this whole time. Hyojong has that feeling of being left out again, but he doesn’t dwell on it.

“Sorry,” Hyojong says, hoarse. “I fell asleep. Am I driving?”

“Yeah, later, or I can,” Hyuna says, smiling up at him. “But right now I’m having a glass of wine, do you want one?”

“Not right now,” Hyojong says, going over to sit next to her. Up at the wheel, Hui yawns, and for some reason Hyojong remembers the carving of his name in the desk drawer and feels a flash of that same curious longing Hyuna must be feeling — to know about Hui’s childhood, his adolescence. Rich kids must get lonely just like anybody else, right? And Hyuna’s never mentioned Hui having siblings or anything. For the first time, Hyojong can almost relate to him, or at least to how insistently he’s clinging on to Hyuna. It’s easy to hate him, but it’s just as easy to pity him, and Hyojong can’t yet decide what he’d rather do.

But the night goes by quietly. There are still leftovers from last night and Hui makes some sort of salad to go with the pasta, and Hyojong takes the wheel when they’ve both gone to bed. He fiddles with the built-in radio until he picks up some distant station playing classical music and turns it down low so only he can hear it, and it’s just him, Mendelssohn, and the moon until the sun comes up.


	2. part 2: flow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i didnt want this to be two chapters but ao3 made me split it up oh well !! anyway thank you so much for making it this far heheh i promise there's a lot more exciting stuff to come.........!!!

By the sixth day, they’re starting to run low on food.

“Good news is, I found a bag of candy,” Hui says, coming up from his room with the bag in his hand. “Bad news… it’s all melted together and I can’t read the labels, they’re in Greek, so it could be poisoned for all I know.”

“It’s all Greek to you, eh?” Hyuna says, stretching her hands out for the bag. 

“Don’t, he’ll do that fucking monologue again,” Hyojong mumbles, not lifting his head from the table. The last time Hyuna had made a slight reference to Shakespeare, Hui had, for some ungodly reason, performed the entirety of Marc Antony’s “friends, Romans, countrymen” speech, with dramatic pauses and everything. If there’s one thing Hyojong hates more than a dickwad, it’s a showoff dickwad.

“And that one’s actually from Julius Caesar, too, so you’re really tempting me,” Hui grins, handing Hyuna the bag. “How are we doing with bread?”

“I rationed it for two more days,” Hyuna sighs, opening the bag gingerly and poking at the contents. “Yeah, I’m not eating this. When did you even go to Greece?”

Hui shrugs. “I don’t remember. We went a couple of times.”

“Oh, we did, did we,” Hyojong says into the table. 

Hui, not that Hyojong can see him, stares disapprovingly. “Yeah, we did. So?” he says coolly. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous.”

“Fuck off,” Hyojong mutters. “I wouldn’t summer in Greece for all the melted candy in the world.”

“Your loss. It was really nice,” Hui says, and Hyojong snorts, lifting his head.

“Do you ever listen to yourself?”

“Do _you_?”

“Okay, well,” Hyuna says, raising her voice, “we have bread, and we have lots of canned soup, and it’s not my fault I ate all the vegetables, I didn’t know we didn’t have any more.”

“No one’s blaming you,” Hui assures her immediately. “I should have said. And who needs vegetables, anyway?”

“Vegetarians,” Hyojong says, but then shakes his head and rubs a hand over his face. “It’s okay, Hyuna, you got your vitamins and that’s what matters.”

Hyuna gently presses her arm to Hyojong’s, both reproachful and fond. “I checked the map,” she says to the table at large, “and based on our current latitude and longitude, we’ll get there in about a day and a half if we speed up. Do we have enough gas to do that?”

“I’ll check, but I’m pretty sure we do,” Hui says. “We have an emergency power generator for worst-case-scenarios, but…”

“We won’t let it get that bad,” Hyuna promises. “I’ll push the boat myself if I have to.” She thinks about things for a moment, then nods. “Dawn. How confident are you in your Spanish skills?”

“Medium to low,” Hyojong says, resting his chin in his hand and looking over at her. “Why?”

“Just in case. I think we’ll probably be coming into a pretty small town, so you might have to do the talking for us, ‘cause I don’t know if anyone will speak English. Or Korean, I guess,” Hyuna says, biting her lip. “Is that okay?”

“What choice do I have?” Hyojong shrugs. “It’s fine. Here’s hoping I don’t fuck up.”

“I’ll start praying right now,” Hui says, a sardonic twist to his mouth, and Hyojong doesn’t even bother sending him a withering look or anything — he’s not worth the energy.

“No, he’s really good at it, he’s just being modest,” Hyuna says, frowning very briefly at Hui. “He did it for— six years, seven?”

“Six,” Hyojong says. “But that was, like— no, I only finished two years ago, I don’t have any excuses. I’ll be able to get us food and gas.”

“Well, good,” Hyuna says, putting her palms on the table. “That’s the conclusion of official business for this meeting. Any further comments?”

“Hyojong has been kicking me under the table this whole time,” Hui says mildly. 

“No, I haven’t, that’s Hyuna,” Hyojong says, glancing under the table. “Nice try, asshole.”

“We agreed on no namecalling,” Hyuna says, “and you could have moved your legs, Hui.”

“Or you could have not kicked me,” Hui points out.

“Watch it,” Hyojong says lazily, rubbing his eyes. Last night, he let Hyuna take the wheel, and although it was nice to get an actual night of sleep, it fucked up his Circadian rhythm and he’s barely awake. “She can kick whatever she wants.”

“Yeah, fair enough,” Hui says, then tries to smile at Hyojong. Hyojong doesn’t look at him long enough to see if it works.

“Right, well, meeting dismissed,” Hyuna says, waving a hand. “Hui, go drive, I’m gonna nap. Dawn, heat up some soup if you’re hungry.”

“If you want room service, you know the drill,” Hyojong says, dragging himself to his feet and going over into the kitchen. “Two claps and a whistle.”

“What happens if I only do one clap?” Hyuna teases.

Hyojong shrugs, bending down to find some soup that doesn’t sound awful. “Then you get a surprise visit, and I can’t guarantee you’ll like it.”

“Really?” Hyuna says, laughing. “What is it?”

“A surprise,” Hyojong says, finding a can of chicken noodle and straightening up. “It involves a corkscrew and a wig, and again, I can’t guarantee you’ll like it.”

Hyuna keeps laughing, and Hui huffs softly and gets up. “Hyuna, how much faster did you say we need to be going?”

“Just— faster, I don’t know exactly,” Hyuna says, also getting up and heading towards her room. “Figure it out.”

She leaves, which means Hui and Hyojong are alone together, and although Hyojong is usually in a fighting mood around Hui, he isn’t right now. “Soup?” he says, finding a can opener and starting to pop the lid.

“…What kind is it?” Hui asks. He looks very suspicious, and it’s almost funny. Has Hyojong really been so hostile that Hui is this apprehensive about an offer of soup?

“Chicken noodle,” Hyojong says. “With extra chunks.”

“Of what?” Hui says, raising an eyebrow.

Hyojong glances at the can. “It doesn’t say.”

Hui laughs, startled. “Well, uh, let me know if it’s any good and maybe I’ll have some.”

“What’s the magic word?” Hyojong says, turning away to resume opening the can and also to find a clean-passing bowl. 

“Alakazam. I wasn’t asking if I could have some of yours, I know we have more,” Hui says. “If you’re planning to boss me around, it’s not going to work.”

“Not everything is about you,” Hyojong says, bored. He stirs the soup in the can with a spoon, then pours it into a small pot and puts it on the stove. “In fact, I’d go so far as to say that nothing is about you.”

“We’re on _my_ boat,” Hui says. “Everything here is mine, so. It is all about me, at least while you’re here.”

“So what are you gonna do, throw me off?” Hyojong says, leaning against the counter and licking his soup spoon clean while he waits for the stovetop to get hot. “What a threat, Captain Hook.”

“Who does that make you, then, Peter Pan?” Hui says, his lip curling. “Yeah. Grow up.”

“You’re the one whining about how this is your personal yacht and I’m playing with all your toys and it’s hurting your feelings,” Hyojong shrugs. “If one of us is being immature, I’m pretty sure it’s not me.”

“When did I say anything about my feelings?” Hui demands. “I’m just reminding you—”

“What my place is?” Hyojong sighs. “I’m well aware. Next you’ll ask me if I have any idea who you are, and—”

“Quit bringing that up, I already apologized,” Hui says, the tips of his ears going pink the same way they always do when Hyojong mentions their run-in at the club. “And clearly you don’t, anyway.”

“What’s there to know?” Hyojong says, rolling his eyes. 

“More than you think,” Hui retorts, which is confusing, but Hyojong knows he’s just posturing, trying to show off again.

“More than I care about,” Hyojong corrects. 

Before Hui can answer, there’s a thump from the general direction of Hyuna’s room, and she loudly says, “Shut _up_ or take it outside, I’m trying to fucking sleep, you’re both assholes, and if you don’t let me sleep you’ll both be really fucking sorry.”

This shames Hui into mumbling something and bustling out onto the main deck, and Hyojong just turns around to face the stove again and stirs his soup. He knows it upsets Hyuna when they argue, but he doesn’t even start it most of the time, and for some reason he just can’t help himself once they get started. It’s easy to poke holes in Hui’s expensive armor, that’s all. It’s petty, but he likes getting a rise out of him, because then at least he knows that Hui is equally irritated by Hyojong as Hyojong is by him. 

He just doesn’t like him. He’s allowed to not like people. He doesn’t like his fancy linen pajama shirts, or his preppy yacht, or his hair, or his jokes, or the way Hyuna seems to genuinely enjoy his company, or the way he clearly adores her. If he adores her so much, why’d he leave her in the first place? It’s sketchy. Hyojong still doesn’t trust him. And it’s either being openly suspicious of his every move or bickering with him, and he thinks he knows which option is more preferable for everyone. He’s practically doing them all a service, he thinks to himself in his more nonsensical moments.

His soup finishes heating up and he transfers it into the bowl, sitting at the dining table and slurping about half of it down before he has a fairly concerning thought. He abandons the soup and goes out onto the bridge, leaning in the door and looking at Hui, who is driving. “Hey, Hui.”

Hui glances over, unimpressed. “Now what?”

“Do you have any money?” Hyojong asks politely enough, and something completely alien runs across Hui’s face, his eyes going wide and lost for a second before the handsome mask goes right back up and he looks almost angry. 

“Are you seriously asking me for money? Seriously?”

“Relax,” Hyojong says, rolling his eyes. “Not for me. How are we going to buy food and gas, huh? You can’t hock your shoes, and as cute as I am, I don’t think a kissing booth would be very successful—”

“Yes, Jesus Christ, I have money for food and gas,” Hui snaps. “If worse comes to worst, I have a couple of old iPhones and watches we can barter with.”

“There we go, I was waiting for that,” Hyojong says. “Cool. I was just checking.”

“I’ve been planning this trip for a while. How stupid do you think I am?” Hui mutters.

“Stupid enough to ask me that question,” Hyojong points out, but he’s fulfilled his arguing-with-Hui quota for the day. “There’s more soup, if you want it.”

Hui squints at him. “Was it any good?”

“It sure was soup.”

Hui laughs briefly and looks away, checking the compass again. “No, thanks.”

“Soup yourself,” Hyojong shrugs, pushing off from the doorframe.

Hui makes a weird, choked noise. “What? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Huh? Oh. Like… suit yourself, but soup yourself.” Hyojong blinks at him. “It’s a pun. Do they not have those in the Hamptons or wherever you hatched from a diamond-encrusted egg?”

“Please fuck off,” Hui says, but he seems to be smiling, mistakenly under the impression that Hyojong is trying to make nice with him. Hyojong is doing no such thing; he’s just establishing himself as the second funniest person on board (Hyuna is the first, obviously) so Hui doesn’t get any ideas.

He goes back in and finishes his soup, chasing it with his daily ration of bread. “Man, I sure could go for a vegetable right now,” he says quietly, just in case Hyuna is awake, but no flying projectiles emerge from the master suite, so she’s clearly fast asleep. He lies down across the seats and looks up through the tinted windows at the cloudless sky and lets the homesickness and seasickness battle in his brain until he decides he’s had enough and goes to bed, too.

By the time Hyuna spies land on the horizon a day later, Hyojong is about ready to crawl out of his own skin and then set it on fire. Having canned soup for brunch and dinner is taking him back to his college years, and not in a good way. Hui being always up in his face only makes it worse. People supposedly learn a lot about themselves when they’re out on long journeys on the sea, and so far all Hyojong has learned is that he’s a lot more confrontational than he’d known previously, all thanks to Hui. But there’s land out there, and all three of them get monosyllabic and hungry-eyed as it gets closer and closer, and Hyuna crows loudly when she spots a tree, then, further to the south, what seems to be a pier. Hui steers in that direction, and Hyojong climbs up as high as the yacht goes to watch as they pull up to the compact wooden structure, where there’s an empty spot right at the end as if it was built for them. 

Hui disembarks first, offering a hand to Hyuna to help her off. She almost falls over immediately but clings to him, giggling deliriously, and even Hyojong can’t help smiling as he joins them on the dock. 

“Sea legs!” Hyuna says, pointing to her wobbly knees, and Hyojong goes to the other side of her, putting an arm around her waist to keep her supported. One of her arms goes around each of their shoulders, and they hobble along to the end of the pier, to land. Hui’s fingers brush the side seam of Hyojong’s shirt, and the touch feels like it burns but Hyojong doesn’t pull away. It’s an accident, anyway, and it happens the other way around, too, Hyojong’s hand around Hyuna’s waist bumping into Hui’s hip every few steps. 

They make it to land and look around, all at somewhat of a loss. It’s still early in the afternoon, and a little ways down the rocky beach, Hyojong spots a stall of some sort. He nods to it, and they continue their ungainly, stumbling path down to it even though Hyuna declares she’s feeling much better and they don’t need to hold her up anymore. 

Upon closer inspection, it becomes clear that this is a fishing supplies stall, and Hyojong pinches the bridge of his nose. “I guess I’ll ask where we can get food and stuff,” he says reluctantly. “Please, uh, don’t make fun of my accent, I know it’s not great.”

“You’re my hero and you haven’t even done anything yet,” Hyuna says, and stretches up to kiss him on the cheek before shoving him in the direction of the stall. This doesn’t help Hyojong’s state of tongue-tied-ness, but when he makes eye contact with the man running the stall, he somehow musters up all his courage and hesitantly, quietly, says _hola_ , _buenas tardes,_ _¿_ _dónde podemos comprar comida?,_ _y la gasolina para el yate, ¿dónde?_ He has to ask the man to repeat his answer twice before he’s sure he gets it, but finally he gets the instructions: go down the main road until you get to the palm tree grove and go left; they’ve come just in time for the regional market. As for gasoline, he can get that for them, they’ll just have to wait a while.

Red-faced but proud, Hyojong comes back to Hyuna and Hui, who are still leaning on each other as Hyuna kicks some sand around. “Well?” Hyuna asks, grinning at him. 

“There’s a market in town, we got lucky,” Hyojong says. “And he’ll get us gas. Fuck, I forgot to ask how much it would cost—”

“Who cares!” Hyuna beams, letting go of Hui and stretching up to hug Hyojong for a second. “You’re so smart, I had no idea you were that good at it, you sounded so cute!”

“I told you not to make fun of my accent,” Hyojong says, embarrassed but happy, and when Hui smiles at him over Hyuna’s head, he doesn’t even scowl in return. 

They go back down to the main road and proceed down it as per the man’s instructions, and although the various vendors in the market dislike them on the basis of them being tourists, they’re still happy enough to sell their wares once Hui pulls a decent wad of cash out of his pocket. Then Hui and Hyuna are both hanging on either side of Hyojong, ordering him around and pointing to things they want, and he’s flustered and not used to this much attention but still emboldened, unfamiliar words becoming familiar in his mouth the longer he barters over the price of a large cut of beef or a ripe mango. 

The town is close enough to Cancún that it has a clearly tourist-oriented hotel further inland and a small grocery store, where they stock up on nonperishables and enormous tanks of water. Hyojong manages to wheedle a cart out of the store owner and promises to bring it back within two hours, and they load it up with their purchases and take turns pushing it down the road and back to the dock. Hyuna is eating an orange, Hui’s chewing on some beef jerky, and Hyojong has a blue raspberry-flavored lollipop in his mouth because he wants to have a blue tongue like a skink. When they make it to the boat, Hui says he’ll unload everything and Hyojong should go see about the gas, and Hyuna offers to go with him but he says he’ll be okay. 

He runs off down the beach, barefoot even though he sees there are sharper shells buried in the sand than he’d like to step on, and meets up with the man from the fishing stall, who has procured two large drums of gasoline from somewhere. He then has to run back to the boat to get the cart again, and this time Hyuna does come with him just to help hold the barrels steady and to pay for the gas while Hyojong thanks him profusely.

Once the gasoline is back at the ship and Hui and Hyojong have struggled to get one container inside and one hooked up to the tank, Hyojong has to run yet again and return the cart to the grocery store, barely making it back within the two-hour window. By the time he’s stepping onboard the boat again, he’s about ready to pass out from all this excitement and running, so Hyuna insists that they stop for the day. Hui agrees, but says they should go out a ways from the shore and drop anchor there so they don’t have to deal with mosquitoes. Hyuna agrees, and they set off out on the water again.

“So what do you want for dinner, honey?” Hyuna murmurs, running her fingers through Hyojong’s hair. He’s lying across one of the outdoor benches with his head in her lap and this is the happiest he’s been in more than four months, probably. He can almost pretend it’s just them onboard, or that they’re back in their tiny apartment in Orlando, when she’s petting his hair like that. “We have all sorts of things thanks to your heroic efforts. How about some… soup?”

He reaches up blindly to pinch her arm, and she laughs and squirms away. “No soup. Solid foods only or I’ll mutiny.”

“You want steak? Fruit salad? Popcorn? We got it all,” she says, her hands cool and smooth when she touches his forehead. “I’ll ask what Hui wants, too, and we can compromise.”

“I don’t care,” Hyojong sighs. “Whatever you want. I’m too hungry to be hungry.”

“Gotcha,” Hyuna says, a smile in her voice. She pets his hair some more before gently moving his head out of her lap and getting up, going over to ask Hui what he’s in the mood for, and Hyojong turns his head to the side and cracks his eyes open, watching her talk to him. For a couple of hours, it had maybe seemed like things were normal between them all, but now that she’s walking away, he’s feeling this delicious, perverse sense of smugness that she holds Hyojong’s head in his lap and pets him until he’s relaxed but she doesn’t even hug Hui more than once a day.

He’s never even been a jealous person before, is the thing. Hyuna is his best friend and the most important person in the world to him, and he knows, has never doubted, that he is the same to her. He doesn’t know what’s different, now, and why he cares so much about what Hui makes of the whole situation. He closes his eyes and stops thinking about it as Hyuna goes into the galley and requests for him to come be her sous-chef whenever he’s done lying down.

They have a meat-and-vegetable stir-fry for dinner, and having a full stomach makes Hyojong feel so good that he’s almost deluded into thinking maybe the rest of this trip won’t be so bad and maybe he can get along with Hui after all. Hyuna is laughing and alternating between leaning on Hui’s shoulder and Hyojong’s as they eat, and while Hyojong isn’t seeking out conversation with Hui, he’s not particularly avoiding it, either, which is more than he can say about the past week. There have been multiple excruciating but well-intentioned attempts on Hyuna’s behalf to get them to get along, primarily through the method of having them all eat together and try to make small talk. This never works, because Hyojong doesn’t care about small talk and Hui is too good at it. Hyojong has also learned that Hui tends to ramble when he’s uncomfortable, and Hyojong works hard to make him uncomfortable. That, combined with the tendency to talk small, makes for very unpleasant dinners indeed. But tonight is okay. 

“I have a crazy idea,” Hyuna announces once the dishes are washed (by Hui, Hyuna’s reasoning for it being “you broke my heart, so you owe me clean dishes!”). “I think… we should all go to sleep.”

“You’re so smart,” Hyojong sighs. “I’m game. And damn the consequences.”

“We can stay close to the coast like this,” Hui suggests. “And anchor at night instead of sailing through it. That might be better.” He sounds shifty but looks as unflappable as ever, and Hyojong doesn’t care what he’s thinking about, anyway.

“Works for me,” Hyuna hums, getting up and coming over to put her arms around Hui, hugging onto his back. “Good night. You okay?”

“Hm?” Hui says, glancing back at her in surprise. “I’m great. Always am. Are you?”

“Yeah,” Hyuna says, giving him a squeeze, and then lets go to come over to Hyojong. “And how are you, my hero, my savior?” She leans down to hug him, too, and his eyes are on Hui’s back, thinking about how she was just hugging him over there and now she’s here.

“Tired,” he says, turning his head to press his face into her hair, still just as red but now curly and frizzy from the humidity. “I’ll get back to you after I’ve slept.”

“Good night,” she says, smiling all soft, then pulls away and goes to her room. 

This leaves Hui and Hyojong alone, but Hyojong wants neither to fight nor to talk. “Night,” he says, getting up and stretching, barely covering his yawn with one hand. 

Hui nods, finishing drying the dishes, but just as Hyojong starts going down the stairs, he says, “Hyojong—”

Hyojong turns around, an eyebrow cocked. “What?”

Hui purses his lips, then puts on a light smile. “Never mind. Good night.”

Hyojong makes a noise in return and goes down the stairs. When he gets into bed after stripping, he falls asleep almost immediately, and when he wakes up again, the boat is already moving. He sits up slowly and looks out of the window and he can still see land; they must not have gone very far. He pulls a shirt on and comes out to the main deck, squinting against the light. 

“Good morning!” Hyuna shouts from somewhere above him. “I realized I haven't gone swimming at all this trip so I’m making Hui find us a good place to swim! Also, go have a toaster waffle!”

Hyojong hums, bleary, and goes back inside. He’s also noticed that they haven’t made any real contact with the water yet, too, but in his mind, that’s for the best. He doesn’t like deep water and he’s never particularly cared for swimming. Prefers showers over baths, doesn’t like pools, and the prospect of being submerged in the same liquid that whales and unfathomably horrible sea monsters make their homes in doesn’t sound appealing. He won’t voice any of that, obviously, so that Hyuna won’t baby him and Hui won’t make fun, but he’ll try and keep the swimming to a minimum, if he can.

The toaster waffles are a little soggy but still good. By the time Hyojong finishes eating, Hui is slowing the boat to a stop and anchoring them a few hundred yards out from the shore. The water is clear and calm, and Hyojong goes out to sit on the back of the boat and reach out to skim the top of it with his fingertips. Hyuna, meanwhile, has changed into another bikini and practically flings herself off the boat and into the water. She splashes Hyojong, and he laughs, scooting away from the edge. 

Hui announces some intention to join her, so Hyojong grabs his neglected Stephen King and a pack of cigarettes he’d bought at the grocery store, going up to sit on the top of the boat. There’s an extendable shade he sits under so he doesn’t have to bother with sunscreen, but even though it’s not too hot and not too bright out, he can’t focus on the book, not when he can hear Hyuna’s shrieks and laughter from the water as she and Hui race each other around the boat. He lies down flat on his back, one arm splayed out to the side and one holding the cigarette to his mouth, and watches the smoke he exhales dissipating. He feels so much better after one that he has another one, and he comes down to the main deck to see what Hyuna is up to.

Hyuna is reenacting something from the Little Mermaid, Hui’s head and shoulders bobbing up and down in the water a few feet away, and Hyojong sits on the other side, tapping his cigarette into a small plate he had the presence of mind to grab from the kitchen.

“I thought you quit!” Hyuna says when she’s done trying to get a perfect coming-out-of-the-water hair flip. 

Hyojong shrugs. “It’s been, like, a week since I’ve had one, gimme a break.”

“You wanna come swim? The water’s fine,” Hyuna says, shimmying her shoulders. Hyojong’s eyes almost slip low but he looks away, coughing out a breath.

“I don’t know where I put my swimsuit and I don’t wanna bother finding it,” Hyojong says, taking a long drag. “I’m reading, anyway.”

“Okay,” Hyuna sighs, slipping back into the water. “You’re so boring. Will you get me a hair tie?”

“Sure,” Hyojong says, leaving his cigarette outside so he doesn’t smoke up the cabin and going in to find her hair supplies among her things. It’s hot, so he leaves his shirt in his own room and returns outside to finish his cigarette and give her the hair tie. He goes down to the ladder but doesn’t see her at first, and when she suddenly pops straight up out of the water he nearly slips and falls from shock. “Hyuna— don’t!” 

“I’m sorry,” Hyuna coos, reaching up to take the hair tie and pulling her wet hair back into a bun. “I’m sorry, honey, were you really scared?”

“No,” Hyojong says, but he’s frowning anyway. “See any fish?”

“I thought I saw a turtle but it might have just been, like, a plastic bag,” Hyuna says. “Hui’s gonna get snorkel masks the next time we stop, then I’ll really see some fish.”

“Cool,” Hyojong says, carefully going back up the ladder. “Don’t stay out too long or you’ll get pruney.”

“Too late, and also I swallowed some water and it was horrible and my eyes hurt so bad from going under,” Hyuna says brightly. “Basically, I’m having a blast!”

“Uh huh,” Hyojong says, but he could never stay mad at her, so he smiles back. She pushes away from the ladder and swims off again, and he finishes smoking and picks his book back up. 

After another half hour, Hui comes aboard, saying something about lunch and a shower. Hyojong glances up and sees him going into the cabin. His shoulders are narrow and his back is… nice, as far as backs go, and Hyojong’s eyes follow the movement of his hand when he runs his fingers through his wet hair. Then he catches himself and looks away, frowning again. First he’s noticing Hyuna, now this. The heat must really be getting to him.

When Hyuna gets out of the water shortly after, Hyojong experimentally looks her over from head to toe. He feels something like seasickness but not quite and his face must be burning when she comes over, because she makes an affectionate little noise and ruffles his hair. “What’s up, buttercup?”

“Nothing,” Hyojong says. He bats her away gently with his book. “Go away, you’re dripping on me.”

Hyuna pouts, her hair tumbling down from the half-hearted bun and sticking to the sides of her face. “I’m gonna go shower.”

“I think Hui’s in there,” Hyojong says.

Hyuna shrugs, a mischievous look on her face. “Perfect, we’ll save some water!” She very quickly leans down and pinches Hyojong’s cheek. “Don’t look like that, I was joking.”

“Look like what?” Hyojong says, but Hyuna just shakes her head, still smiling, and goes inside, wrapping herself in a striped towel as she walks.

Hyojong closes his eyes and leans his head back. Hyuna’s beautiful, he’s always known that, but there’s always been more than that, too, so much more that he doesn’t always notice how beautiful she is. Being out on the water for so long has just messed with him, that’s all. Yes, she’s beautiful, and he loves being close to her, and the curve of her neck looks so soft, and the walls in their apartment are so thin and sometimes— sometimes, he can hear—

Something falls loudly in the kitchen and jolts him out of this train of thought. He jumps up and goes inside, heading straight for the minifridge to get some cold water. Hui is making sandwiches and he ignores Hyojong when he comes in, which Hyojong is fine with. Hyojong leans against the counter and sips his water, feeling significantly less hysterical about possibly finding his best friend attractive now that he’s inside and has water to drink. 

It’s not the end of the world if he’s into Hyuna. He knows he’s in love with her, that much is obvious to both of them. As to anything else, well. Over the years he’s known her he’s tried to repress it, never lets himself think about her legs or the buttons on her uniform, because there’s so much more to her than how she looks and he doesn’t want to disrespect her or do anything stupid or make any assumptions about what she might or might not be interested in. Either way, now is the wrong time to think about it. Maybe years from now when she’s settled down and married — his stomach flips unpleasantly at the thought — he’ll admit it to himself, but not today, not now.

Hui finishes making his lunch and goes over to sit down. “Just so you know,” he says, his voice neutral, “I’m planning for us to stop in Belize in a few more days, so we don’t run out of food like that again.”

“‘kay,” Hyojong says, glancing at him. “Why are you telling me this?”

Hui clenches his jaw slightly. “Because you should know? You’re on this trip, so you should know. You don’t have to be so difficult, I’m just trying to be nice.”

“Is that what you’re doing?” Hyojong says tiredly. “Don’t bother. I don’t care where we’re going.”

“And you don’t care how long we’re out here for, either?” Hui says. He looks strange with his hair flattened down, much younger, much less inspiring of hatred, but Hyojong isn’t fooled.

“I didn’t say that. I just said I don’t care where we’re going.” Hyojong finishes his water and sets the cup down. Why the fuck would Hui try to be nice to him? What’s the point? When they get to Brazil, Hyojong is planning to grab Hyuna, get plane tickets to Orlando, and never look back. Why be nice to someone you’ll never see again after a few months?

“What _do_ you care about?” Hui mutters. “I think I saw a sea slug ten minutes ago that had more interests than you do.”

“I have interests,” Hyojong says. “Peace and quiet, there’s one and two. You not bothering me, there’s another one. Macramé, that’s four total.”

Hui covers his face with his hand for a second, and it almost looks like he’s hiding a smile back there. “Why do you always fucking do that?”

“What?” 

“Piss me off, then say something funny.”

Hyojong blinks, crossing and uncrossing his arms. “What? I don’t do that.” Not on purpose, anyway.

Hui sighs and uncovers his face, looking neutral again. “Forget it.” He gets up and takes his plate over to the sink, rinsing it off as Hyojong stands there and doesn’t say anything, then goes back outside and turns the engine on. Under Hyojong’s feet, the boat rumbles as the anchor is pulled up, and Hyuna comes out into the kitchen after another moment and demands that Hyojong cook something for her. If Hyojong is expressing any of the weirdness he feels, she doesn’t notice it, or she notices but doesn’t say anything. Ten minutes of talking to her makes him feel all normal again, anyway, and he resolves not to entertain stupid thoughts like that again.

“I wish we had some board games or something,” Hyuna says wistfully the next evening, and Hui hums in assent. They’re having another awkward group dinner again, and she made them both do the cooking, so Hui and Hyojong have spent significantly more time together than either of them would like to. “Monopoly, maybe.”

“No, then we’d definitely kill each other,” Hui says with a wry smile. “I think I might be able to find a deck of cards somewhere if I really look for it.”

“We could play never have I ever,” Hyojong suggests. “I’ll go first. Never have I ever owned a yacht.”

“Ha ha,” Hui says, not even looking at him. “Never have I ever had more than one facial expression.”

“Boys,” Hyuna sighs, and Hui bites his lip slightly, frowning. 

“He said—”

“I don’t care,” Hyuna says. “You know my rules. Shut up or take it outside.”

Hyojong sneaks a glance at Hui, who is sneaking a glance at him, and they both look kind of regretful but evidently not enough to make any effort to get along. 

“Dawn, could you get me another Coke?” Hyuna says, and Hyojong nods, slipping out from behind the table to go into the kitchen. Hyuna leans over and starts hissing something at Hui, and Hyojong doesn’t bother eavesdropping, he can probably guess what she’s saying.

He comes back and hands the can to her and she leans away from Hui again, but she’s still sending him a meaningful look. Hyojong sighs, sitting down. “Whatever you’ve got to say about me, you can say it to my face,” he says. “I’m not a baby, I can handle it.”

“I wasn’t saying anything about you,” Hyuna shrugs. “And I know you’re tired and testy, but don’t take it out on me, okay?”

Hyojong, sobered up by this, nods, and scoots in closer to her very slightly. She takes pity and leans over to meet him, putting her arm around his shoulders. “It’s okay, honey. Remember, we used to bicker when you first moved in with me, too, right? Just be nice.”

Hyojong huffs quietly. It wasn’t so much bickering as it was planning who does what chores when and figuring out how much of the living room Hyojong could claim as his own, but yes, he does remember. He feels a twinge of guilt that neither he nor Hui can chill long enough for Hyuna to have a nice time with her friends, but he really can’t help it, there’s just something about him that makes Hyojong act in weird, uncharacteristic ways. He doesn’t know why.

He’s tired, honestly. He wishes it were just him and Hyuna on this boat and that it wasn’t going anywhere, drifting in the warm water. She’s the only person he’s ever felt comfortable around, and although he’s gotten more or less used to Hui’s presence, it’s still not the same and he can’t relax. Maybe that’s why he’s been so on-edge; he hasn’t had a second to truly relax this whole trip. That doesn’t mean he has any excuse to be short with Hyuna, though, especially since it’s not her he’s frustrated with.

They finish up dinner and Hui offers to clean up, and Hyuna and Hyojong go out and sit towards the bow of the boat and look at the stars. They sit next to each other with their shoulders barely pressed together and they’re quiet for a while, and then Hyuna clears her throat softly and says, “I’m sorry.”

Hyojong tears his eyes away from the Milky Way and looks at her, surprised. “What? For what?”

Hyuna sighs, bringing her knees up and resting her elbows on them. “For… bringing you out here. I know you didn’t want me to go and I know you didn’t want to come, and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have made you.”

“You didn't make me,” Hyojong points out, once again at a loss. He doesn’t know what to do when Hyuna’s upset. She’s made to smile and be on top of the world, and when she’s anything but, it goes so against the natural order of the universe that it throws his ability to think clearly all out of whack, not that it’s ever particularly good otherwise. “I wanted to go with you, so I went.”

“I’m still sorry,” Hyuna shrugs. She rests her chin on top of her knees, looking out at the water, the land barely visible in the distance. “I shouldn’t have expected you two to get along, either, you’re very… different.”

“That’s for sure,” Hyojong says before he can stop himself, but then he bites his lip and closes his eyes, leaning forward to put his forehead on Hyuna’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about me,” he starts saying, but she cuts him off with an impatient sound.

“Quit telling me not to worry about you. I’m always going to worry about you, got it? You’re— you’re part of me, I can’t just not worry,” she huffs. “I can worry less or more, but I can’t not worry at all.”

“Fine,” Hyojong says, gently nudging her with his head until she lowers her shoulder and he can cuddle in closer. “So worry less.”

“Oh, Dawnie,” she sighs, still sounding disappointed, but she opens an arm and pulls him in close. “Do you accept my apology or not?”

“No, because you don’t have anything to be sorry for,” Hyojong says. “I’m with you, how could I be anything but happy?”

“You’re such a sap,” Hyuna mutters, but her arm around him tightens anyway. “You’d tell me if something was really wrong, right? I mean, something more than you needing to be territorial with Hui or whatever that is.”

Hyojong thinks about it, then nods into her shoulder, his arm going around her waist. “Yeah. But nothing’s wrong. Have I been being weird?”

“No more than usual,” she says, then kisses the top of his head and pushes him away. “Now fuck off, I’m hoping to see a shooting star and I can’t see if you’re attached to me like a limpet.”

“Whatever,” Hyojong says, touched and embarrassed all at once that she’s so concerned about him. He grins at her like the lovestruck idiot he is for another second, then scoots away and gets up. The light in the main cabin is dimmed, he sees, so Hui must have gone to bed already. This is good, since now there’s no risk of them arguing and ruining Hyuna’s night further. 

Hyojong wishes he could promise to her or himself that he won’t pick any more fights or rise to the challenges Hui keeps throwing down, but any time he wakes up in the morning planning to be good that day, Hui has to go and say something or look at him the wrong way or make some implication and Hyojong can’t hold himself back.

Hyuna’s talking-to has knocked some sense into him, though, so he tries to avoid Hui as best he can to minimize the risk of arguing. They get to the Belize area midway through the next day, and Hui pulls out a big world atlas and flips through until he finds the relevant section and he and Hyuna can attempt to chart out the best path around all the islands, large and small, that they’ll be encountering soon.

The first large island they come across is visibly very inhabited; Hyojong can see the buildings of a resort complex even from this far away. They anchor the boat but it’s a little too far to swim, so Hui goes down into the very depths of the yacht and returns with an inflatable dinghy and a pump. Hyuna holds it steady over the edge as Hyojong controls the pump and Hui gives the side of it the occasional squeeze to see if it’s done. Finally, he deems it acceptable, and they set it afloat just behind the yacht, hopping over into it one by one. 

“Did you row crew or anything in college?” Hyuna says, eyeing the oars Hui has procured with distrust. 

“Nope,” Hui says cheerfully. “But it’s not that far, and the tide’s pulling us in that way anyway.” This is not reassuring to anyone, but he starts rowing, and the dinghy does, in fact, begin to go in the correct direction. Hyuna cheers and Hui does his charming self-conscious smile again, this time accompanied by a charming self-conscious shrug. Hyojong gets unpredictable when he looks at him for too long, so he looks at the island instead.

“I’ll row on the way back,” Hyojong says idly, seeing hills that look like a golf course and thinking that Hui will probably feel right at home among whatever geriatric millionaires make their homes there. He closes his eyes, too, because the sun is bouncing off the water at just the right angle to sting. 

“Oh, I totally got it. It’s kinda fun, actually,” Hui says. “But if you really want to.”

“I’m just trying to be nice,” Hyojong says, mocking Hui’s words from the other day, and Hui must get the reference, because he scoffs quietly. 

They alight at a small pier in a few more minutes, and Hyuna jumps out first, then Hui, then Hyojong. They put the dingy on top of the pier because they didn’t bring any rope to tie it down with and set off towards the nearest building, some sort of guest welcome center. There, they pick up an info packet and map, which directs them to a different building that has a mini-market in it. Hyojong doesn’t even have to be the voice of the group anymore, either, since everything is labelled bilingually and the cashier speaks English, and they return to the dinghy in another hour with a couple of bags full of snacks, a few more fruits, and a RedBull for Hyojong just because he was kinda craving one the other day. And three snorkel masks, which Hui only remembered to add to the pile at the very last second. In the store, Hyuna had gone missing for a few minutes and returned looking innocent with a small bag in hand, which she told them not to ask about because it was full of “girl things.” 

“So now where are we going?” Hyuna says once they’re back in the dinghy and Hyojong is, true to his word, rowing them back. He’s never done it before, but it’s not quite as hard as he was expecting, since the boat itself is lightweight and he’s not racing anyone. “I wanna see some coral reefs or something, where are all of those at?”

“Oh, shit, I forgot to ask about that,” Hui says, making a face. “Well, it’s all pretty around here, we’ll find something good.”

“I demand a coral reef,” Hyuna says, crossing her arms, but she relents when Hui offers her a piece of some sort of candy he’d just bought.

“I’ll do my best, okay? And Daw— I mean, Hyojong can help, too. I’ll give you a spyglass and you can be on the lookout for where the waves crest how they do over a reef,” Hui says. Hyojong glances at him for a second and sees his ears are pink for some reason. And maybe he heard it wrong, but it sure seemed like he’d been about to call him Dawn. That’s entirely off-limits, and if he gets close like that again Hyojong will have some choice words for him. But he’ll let him off easy this time, since he didn’t really say it.

“Will you swim with me?” Hyuna asks Hyojong, fluttering her big Bambi eyes at him. “I’ll be there to protect you, you don’t have to be scared of sharks.”

“Are you scared of sharks?” Hui says, raising his eyebrows. 

“No,” Hyojong mutters, frowning at Hyuna. “Humans kill more sharks than the other way around by, like, ten million percent or something like that.”

“So you’ll come along?” Hyuna says, scooting closer to Hyojong even though it rocks the dinghy slightly. “Please?”

“Fine,” Hyojong says, unable to hold back a small smile. “If you really want me to.”

“I just know you can hold your breath for a long time, so you’re gonna have to dive and pick up shells and things from the sea floor for me,” Hyuna says. 

“Great,” Hyojong shrugs. “When I get kidnapped by the Sea King, you’ll have only yourself to answer to.”

“Who’s that?” Hyuna asks, giggling. “The king of the sea?”

“How did you guess?” Hyojong says, his smile growing. When he accidentally looks at Hui, he sees that he’s smiling, too, but there’s no time to do anything about it because they’re already coming up on the boat again and they have to very carefully cross over into it and deflate the dinghy, which they stow below the galley where Hui found it.

“One coral reef coming right up, hopefully,” Hui says, raising the anchor back up and then turning on the engine. He backs the boat away from the island, heading for open water, and Hyuna goes inside to unload the groceries and change into her bikini. Hyojong figures he may as well dig out his swim trunks now so he doesn’t have to do it later and since Hyuna seems so insistent on him swimming. She knows, in theory, that he’s not swimming’s biggest fan, but if it’s important to her, he’ll do it.

He comes back out to the deck in his trunks and with a towel around his shoulders, accessorizing the whole beachy look with large sunglasses. His swim trunks, picked out by Hyuna a few months ago, are red and low-slung on his hips, ending at a somewhat risqué mid-thigh. He finds another lollipop, too, figuring it’s better than a cigarette, and sits in the sun while he waits for Hui to find a good place for them to drop anchor.

Hui watched him come out and hasn’t looked away, it seems. “You have something on your back,” he finally says, sounding a little strangled.

Hyojong frowns and reaches back to skim his fingers over his skin, then rolls his eyes, remembering his tattoos. “Oh, very funny, very mature.” He slouches more, unsure how he feels about Hui seeing his tattoos. Obviously there’s no way around it, but he’d prefer not to show them off — they’re private, and even Hyuna barely knows their backstories. He designed the stag across his shoulders and spine himself, as well as the heart on his shoulder. The cross didn’t need much designing, but he picked the placement at the nape of his neck carefully. There’s the one on his ribs and a few on his inner arms, as well. They’re not in particularly showy places; if he wore a shirt all the time, barely anyone would know he had tattoos at all, so it’s weird that a near-stranger like Hui sees them so often. 

Hyuna comes out and goes over to Hui, peering at the controls. “The water’s so shallow!” she observes, smiling. 

“Lots of sand bars and reefs around here,” Hui nods. “Here, watch. Fifty feet, forty five— twenty, then back to fifty. That’s a reef, I think.”

“Whoa, really?” Hyuna says, putting her chin on Hui’s shoulder to keep watching. “Can we stop?”

“No, this isn’t a good place to anchor, it’s too close to the reef and we might damage it,” Hui says. “I’ll find you one, don’t worry.”

“What, me worry?” Hyuna smiles. “There’s no rush, I just wanna see some tropical fish.”

“Go look in a mirror,” Hyojong says, once again giving himself away as eavesdropping from a distance. Hyuna laughs, and he scoots a little further forward, looking at the water in their wake. It’s a lighter color than any they’ve sailed over so far, evidently because of how shallow it is and the white sand underneath it. He can see more islands in the distance, too small to be inhabited,and for a vague, slow moment, he thinks that he could get used to this kind of midday view.

And then, of course, something goes wrong.

“Oh, shit,” Hui says, laughing nervously. “Haha, fuck. Hold on, everyone.”

“What?” Hyuna says with interest, then “ohhhhhh. Oh, shit.”

“Okay, what?” Hyojong says, forced into caring by how dramatic they’re both being. He gets up and comes over to see what they’re looking at, which is the digital scale that shows how deep the water under them is. The number says 10, then 8.

“Fuck,” Hui says through his teeth, still smiling anyway, and eases off the gas so they’re barely going forward at all. “Wow.”

“What’s going to happen to us?” Hyuna says, looking up at Hui from where she has her chin on his shoulder still. “Are we going to be marooned? You know, I always said I’d pick Dawn as the person I’d want to be stranded on a desert island with, but I somehow didn’t think it’d happen in this lifetime.”

“No, let’s just hope it gets deeper again,” Hui says, and Hyojong goes off to look over the side of the boat. The seafloor is worryingly close — he can make out individual stones and patches of seagrass. “But if it doesn’t—”

There is a crunching noise from underneath them, and Hui scrambles to turn the engine off. The crunching stops, and Hui leans forward to plonk his forehead against the steering wheel. “Well,” he says dryly. “It didn’t.”

Hyuna has covered her mouth with her hands, and her eyes are wide with mirth. “Holy shit!”

“Wow,” Hui says, not lifting his head. 

“We can push it out,” Hyojong says, leaning all the way over the side of the boat to touch the water and feel how warm it is. “Right? Just push it until it’s off the sandbar, then stay far the fuck away from here.”

“How strong do you think you are?” Hui says, but it’s half-hearted, and he gets up from the seat, looking critically out at the sand and water surrounding the boat. “Okay. Let’s try it.”

“Me and Hyuna can take the back, you can go up front and steer,” Hyojong suggests. “Or I can go up to the front and turn it around, then we can switch back.”

“Let’s just see how stuck it is first, then we’ll figure out how to get out of here,” Hui sighs. 

Hyojong nods and heads for the back of the boat. Hyuna kicks down the ladder to the water and shimmies down it quick as anything, sighing happily once she’s in. It’s barely hip-deep, and Hyojong, after a moment of deliberation, joins her. It’s nothing like a pool and nothing like any beach he’s been to in Florida; it’s significantly warmer and the water feels thick. The sand, too, is strange, almost like how he imagined quicksand would be. He makes a face at it, then stomps over through the water to the side of the boat. Hui, meanwhile, has taken off his shirt and gotten into the water as well, but Hyojong doesn’t really pay attention, trying to think of how best to move the boat.

“Right,” Hui says. “Let’s all go around to the front and push it backwards for a start. Or maybe it gets deeper further that way?”

Hyojong shakes his head. “Nah. There’s just more islands. If anything, it’ll be even more shallow.”

“Okay, okay,” Hui says, then wades through the water around the other side of the boat. Hyuna follows Hyojong and they all meet up near the bow. “So… on three, I guess? Once it starts going, we’ll turn it around, which might be tricky because of the… uh… well, it’ll be tricky.”

“Don’t be nervous,” Hyuna says, patting Hui’s arm as Hyojong braces his palms against the curved side of the yacht. “We got this. Ready? One, two, three!”

They all push at once, and Hyuna immediately slips and falls over because the yacht is a lot harder to move than it looks; it must have sunk very deeply into the sand. Hyojong laughs, stopping to help her up, and then they try again, digging their feet more firmly in as they go. 

“Go around the side,” Hyuna urges Hui, “see if it’s going the right way.”

“I think it is,” Hui says, but goes anyway, taking big steps so he can cover more ground. “Okay,” he calls from around the side, “push, I’ll tell you!”

Hyuna nods to Hyojong, and they resume pushing; it gets easier as they go. They make it about three or four big steps ahead before Hui calls out, “Yeah, that’s fine, keep going that way, I’ll say when to stop. Just go slow! I’m gonna check out the rudder!”

“The what?” Hyojong says, leaning all his weight on the yacht so Hyuna doesn’t have to do so much work. 

“The thingy, the thing under the boat that steers it,” Hyuna explains. “I forgot you don’t know shit about boats.”

“Do _you_ know shit about boats?” Hyojong points out.

Hyuna laughs, shaking her head. “Nope!” 

“Pot calling the kettle black,” Hyojong says. “In this case red seems more applicable, though.”

“Slow down!” Hui yells from the other end of the ship, and Hyojong eases off, not pushing quite as hard. 

“Speaking of which,” Hyuna says, a little out of breath, “nice shorts. You look like a sexy tomato.”

“You picked these out,” Hyojong huffs. “If I look like a tomato, it’s your fault.”

“But a _sexy_ tomato!” Hyuna laughs. “Hu-i, how are things over there?”

“Stop, you can stop,” Hui calls back. “Come over here.”

They wade over; the water is now up to their waists, a little higher when small waves roll in. “What’s up?” Hyuna says, swimming to hold onto the ladder. 

“Can you go up there and turn the engine on?” Hui says. “I have an idea and I think it might work. Instead of pushing it around in a circle ourselves, you can steer it, and we’ll keep it steady.” He glances at Hyojong, who nods. “Just don’t touch the gas at all, or one or both of us could get sucked into the engine and die, possibly.”

“Sounds like fun,” Hyuna says. She thinks about it, then nods, heading up the ladder. “Which way should I turn?”

Hui leans around to see which way the boat is currently pointing. “Left,” he says. “If something starts going wrong, I’m sure you’ll be able to tell.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Hyuna says, then waves to them and goes over to the wheel. Hyojong stays on the side he’s on, and Hui moves over to the other one, both of them pressing their hands to the lower corners of the boat. Hyuna waits for a while for them to get settled, then turns the engine on.

The sand around Hyojong’s feet shakes slightly, but he is undeterred, waiting for a signal. “Okay, now turn left!” Hui shouts, and with a low groan, the boat starts to move, but very slowly. “Push, c’mon.”

Hyojong pushes and Hui moves around the side to push it in a counterpoint sort of way, and it’s clear they’re making progress; the boat is starting to swing away from the sandbar it had just been stuck in. But after a second Hyojong sees a problem with this, namely that they’re building up too much momentum and it might end up swinging back around again. “Hui,” he yells over the engine. “We’re coming in too hot, it’s gonna turn the other way if we don’t stop.”

“Fuck,” Hui yells back. “Hyuna, turn it off!”

Hyuna turns the engine off, and Hyojong swims over quickly to the side of the boat Hui is on, and together they press on it just enough that it won’t overcorrect and face back the way they were going. They both just wait there, panting slightly and not moving, until it becomes clear the boat is somewhat stable and won’t turn around.

“Let’s push it forward,” Hyojong says, and Hui nods, taking Hyojong’s earlier spot as Hyojong takes his. “Come on, we’re almost out.”

“On three,” Hui says, then counts up and they both push, Hyojong giving a particularly enthusiastic shove with his shoulder when it starts to veer the wrong way. The water is getting deeper, up to their waists and then to their chests, and for some reason they both start laughing, all their nerves about being stranded turning into relief too quickly to be processed without uncontrollable laughter. When Hyojong’s feet can no longer touch the sand, he and Hui look at each other and, still grinning, they head for the ladder. It’s the first time _ever_ that Hyojong feels not a single drop of antagonism towards him, and when Hui goes up first and then offers Hyojong a hand to help pull him up, he takes it, laughing wheezily as he steps onto the deck even though nothing is funny. 

Hyuna is right there, and she’s laughing, too, but there are also tears in her eyes and she reaches up to grab them both around their necks and pull them in for an oversized hug, one head in each of her shoulders. Hyojong staggers against her, one arm flying around her waist and back for stability, and Hui, much more graceful, adjusts easily, leaning into her comfortably and putting an arm around her as well.

“Good job,” Hyuna whispers, her arms tight around them, and they sway slightly with the movement of the boat.

Hyojong feels a hesitant, uncertain touch on his side, which vanishes but then comes again a second later, ebbing and flowing. A warm, wet hand, first on the small of his back and then going around to hold his waist. Hui. Hyojong’s heart can’t take anything more, so he throws his arm around him in return and squeezes them both. Hui’s fingers press into Hyojong’s hip and Hyojong’s face is in Hyuna’s shoulder and nobody’s going anywhere.

Hyuna is the first to pull back, making a sniffly noise and wiping her face very quickly with her hands. “Let’s get out of here,” she says. “Fuck a coral reef.”

“Don’t fuck the coral reef,” Hyojong says, slinking over to sit down and dry off, and Hui laughs, still sounding a little dazed, as he goes to reclaim his spot at the wheel. Hyuna is still teary, standing with her hands over her eyes, and Hyojong calls to her softly, opening an arm for her to come sit with him. “Hey,” he whispers when she’s sitting down and leaning against him. “What’s up?”

“Girl stuff,” she says, shaking her head. “Just being stupid, it’s okay.”

“Did you get saltwater in your eyes?” Hyojong asks, and Hyuna laughs wetly, pressing her face into his shoulder.

“Yeah, that’s it.” Hyuna sighs, shaky, and Hyojong rubs his thumb over the crest of her arm. “Don’t worry. Well— worry less, I mean. I’ll be okay, I really am just being stupid.”

“If you say so,” Hyojong murmurs. 

“I do say so,” Hyuna says, then rubs her face in his shoulder one more time before pulling back and getting up. “Ugh, I’m so sandy!” She fidgets with her bikini top and Hyojong looks away extremely quickly, coughing. “I’m gonna go shower, or— wait, actually, Hui, don’t we have an outdoor shower hose thing?”

“Yeah, back there,” Hui says, pointing. “Works the same as the other shower.”

“Cool,” Hyuna says, wiping her eyes quickly one more time and going over to the back of the boat. She finds the shower and tugs the hose out, then turns the water on. To get the sand off, she has to pull her bikini aside and kind of arch her back, and Hyojong catches himself staring yet again, his face heating up. He tears his gaze away and it lands on Hui, who’s barely dressed, too, sitting legs akimbo in the driver’s seat with one hand on the wheel and the other adjusting some knobs on the control panel. Hyojong can’t look at him for more than a split second before his head starts to turn, though, and he stares at the ground instead, trying to breathe. 

Heatstroke, it must be, or withdrawal. He goes inside and pours himself a glass of water, hands shaking slightly, but even when he closes his eyes he sees the line of Hyuna’s waist and feels Hui’s touch on his hip.

This isn’t the grand bisexual crisis; he had that a decade ago, and it ended very well for him, actually. This is something else, something even deeper, and he doesn’t want to think about it because it’ll open a can of worms he doesn’t want opened. If it opens, the worms will get everywhere, and once the worms are out, getting them back in will be extremely unpleasant, if not downright impossible. He drinks the whole glass in one go, all the while firmly sealing the can of worms shut and stowing it on the most secluded shelf in his mind possible. He just needs to get a grip, and everything will be fine.

Hyuna comes in all bundled up in her towel and smiles at Hyojong. She’s subdued but she looks happy, and all his guilt and confusion fades away the second he sees her. “So definitely no reef?” he says, finding a pack of animal crackers and offering it to her.

“Yeah,” Hyuna says, accepting the crackers. “Unless you really want to. I know you don’t like swimming, so I’d be surprised.”

“Oh. I thought you forgot,” Hyojong says, and she smiles, shaking her head. 

“I just thought you might like it more if it was with me,” she says. “Wasn’t that fun?”

“Yeah. Except for the part where we almost got stranded and had to hunt seagulls with a makeshift slingshot to survive until we snap and have to eat whoever dies first,” Hyojong shrugs, “it was fun.” And it was. He and Hui didn’t talk much, but they got along for the first time since this horrible trip began. He thinks about Hui and what he’s doing right now, captaining the ship and sitting out there being rich and handsome, and he doesn’t want to wipe the smile off his face or ruin his day. Not that he even consciously wanted to do that before, just— he gets antsy around Hui, impatient, and that expresses itself through combativeness. But he doesn’t feel it right now, and he doesn’t know what to feel instead. 

“See?” Hyuna says softly, her face all open and sweet. “I told you he’s not so bad.”

Hyojong wrinkles his nose, dropping his gaze down to the floor. “Don’t— can we not talk about it?”

“But you know I love saying I told you so,” Hyuna whines. She gives it up almost immediately, though, gently rubbing her hand over Hyojong’s arm. “Okay. Let’s not talk about it.”

“Okay,” Hyojong nods, relieved. “Are you hungry or anything?”

“I’ll just have some chips,” Hyuna hums. “Don’t fuss about me, honey, I’m totally better.”

“Who’s fussing?” Hyojong says, and he wants to put his arms her and just hold her for a while but she probably has things she wants to do like sunbathing or having chips, so he doesn’t. He just smiles at her, then goes to his room and lies face-down on the bed for a while.

The uneasy, tenuous peace between himself and Hui lasts through the next day, and the next, too. Are they friendly? Of course not, but Hyojong doesn’t have the urge to make snide remarks whenever Hui says anything vaguely snooty and Hui doesn’t roll his eyes at Hyojong when he walks by. Hyuna is the happiest Hyojong has seen her so far, since she can actually kind of maintain a conversation between all three of them that doesn’t end in barely-restrained shouting. 

They still bicker, though, but more for the routine of it than anything. It’s mostly harmless. They’re still in the Belize area and Hyuna is determined to see her reef once and for all today, so Hyojong is having an early lunch so they can set out sooner rather than later; he’s working on a sandwich out on the deck when Hui comes out, wearing sunglasses that are probably ridiculously expensive and another one of his stupid fucking pajama shirts, half-unbuttoned. “What’s in that?” he says, nodding to Hyojong’s sandwich.

“Your face,” Hyojong says for lack of better material to work with. 

Hui waits patiently, then tries again. “Well?”

“Chewy,” Hyojong says thoughtfully. “Lots of cartilage. And a stray tooth got mixed in there, too, so there’s varying textures.”

Hui huffs. “Why do I even bother,” he mutters, turning to go back in.

“Provolone and lettuce,” Hyojong says, relenting. 

Hui pauses, then turns around. “And that’s it?”

“Yeah. It’s good, you want some?” Hyojong says, even though he has no intention of sharing. 

“No,” Hui says through a laugh. “Thanks, but no thanks.”

“You’re missing out,” Hyojong says, waving the sandwich around. 

Hui shakes his head and keeps laughing softly. “Is there anything else on it? Mayo, maybe?”

“May-no,” Hyojong says, taking another bite, which makes Hui laugh more, hiding his mouth behind his palm.

“Well, finish up and let’s head out, I think Hyuna’s about ready,” he says once he seems to have calmed down slightly.

“I’m trying to dress so I look as little like a seal as possible,” Hyuna shouts from her room. “Can one of you come tell me if it’s working?”

Hui and Hyojong look at each other with amusement, then Hui turns and goes in, calling out that he’s on his way. Hyojong finishes his sandwich and goes to the back of the boat to sit there and dangle his legs off the edge. He follows the line of the anchor chain with his eyes until it vanishes somewhere into the depths, and that freaks him out enough that he’s nearly reconsidering going out today. Hyuna’s appearance on the deck lifts his spirits, though, as she’s wearing a one-piece patterned with the American flag and it makes her red hair look even redder.

“Well?” she says, cocking her hip out and striking a pose, one hand up above her head.

“I’ve never seen a seal like that,” he assures her. “No shark will go for you.”

“Can’t say the same for you,” she says, grinning. “If I were a shark, I’d definitely try and take a bite.”

“Stop,” Hyojong says, going red. He tries to remember the days when he used to be tough, kicking ass and taking names at Orlando’s best nightclub, not getting shy because his best friend is playfully flirting with him. “Shark attacks are a serious matter, you shouldn’t joke about them, but you know what’s even more serious? Shark _hunting_ —”

“This again?” Hui says, leaning in the doorway. “We get it, you read the Wikipedia page on great whites. Do you know about any other marine life issues?”

“No,” Hyojong says. “I’m a single-issue candidate. One-track mind, me, and that track? All sharks, all the time.”

“A sharks’ rights activist,” Hui says, “if you will.”

“I won’t,” Hyojong says politely. “Are we going or not?”

“You are so fucking weird,” Hyuna sighs, but leads the way off the boat. Hui is wearing a clingy white t-shirt to swim in, and when Hyuna asks him about it, he explains that putting on sunscreen is too much effort and this way he definitely won’t burn. Then she makes a joke about a wet t-shirt contest and they talk about that for a while, and by the time they’ve exhausted that topic of conversation, they’ve swum all the way out to the small reef located midway between the boat and the nearest island. Fitting the snorkel masks takes a while, too, and even though Hyojong doesn’t like the look of an eel he can see near the bottom of the reef, he’s not stressed about giant squid coming up out of the depths and tearing him in half. Not when Hyuna takes his hand and swims by his side, making delighted noises that he can hear even through the water when she sees fish she likes.

They swim around in a circle and he sees that she’s holding Hui’s hand on the other side, too, and what he feels isn’t jealousy, but it sure is something. He feels something unidentifiable and not quite negative and not quite positive, so he shelves it away along with everything else unidentifiable and confusing that’s come up over the course of this trip to be thought about later.

Hyuna decides she’s had enough after maybe twenty minutes, and Hyojong suspects it’s for his sake that she has them all turn around and go back to the boat. That, or Hui really wasn’t kidding about seeing a barracuda in the distance somewhere and Hyuna saw it, too. They clamber back aboard and take their masks off, all now sporting red lines on their faces where the masks pressed in. Hui doesn’t look any less handsome, the bastard, but Hyuna spends what feels like forever poking Hyojong’s cheeks and laughing. 

That night, they all talk about what the most overrated iconic movie quotes are, and when Hyojong declares “nothing gold can stay” as the least overrated highly-rated movie quote, he has a sinking kind of feeling that it’s going to be applicable here pretty soon. But he doesn’t want this peace to end. He might not care a whole lot about whatever Hui has to say, but he likes not arguing and being ticked off all the time. He wants the gold to stay, but now that he’s thought about it, it’ll turn into a self-fulfilling prophecy and he won’t be able to do anything to stop it.

But the next day is peaceful, too. They have a slow afternoon, each eating their own personal mango, purchased from a tiny stall on the island they're anchored next to this time. Hyuna goes out when she’s done to lie in the sun, and Hui starts flipping through maps and mumbling to himself as he traces his finger along the paper until Hyojong finally gives in and asks, “Okay, I’ll bite, what are you planning?”

Hui glances up at him and shrugs. “Just how to get to where we’re going.”

“And?”

“We could cut across, but then we’ll be really far away from land right here, and then we’re totally screwed if anything happens,” Hui explains, pointing to parts of the map, tracing out the route. “So I thought we could stick close to the coast like we have been. It’ll take longer, but it’s safer. Oh! And look, we’re going by Costa Rica, and I’m gonna ask Hyuna if she wants to do this but she’ll probably dig it, she likes frogs and trees as much as the next person— I thought we could stop there for a few days instead of moving on right away, see the sights, that kind of deal. Panama is supposed to be really interesting, too, and—”

“Hmm,” Hyojong says. “Aren’t we going to Brazil?”

Hui frowns briefly, his finger pausing on the map. “Well, eventually, yeah. That’s where I need to be.”

“So why isn’t that where we’re going?” Hyojong asks. 

“That _is_ where we’re going,” Hui says. His eyebrows start going up, and Hyojong can smell trouble already. “Just making some stops along the way.”

“Some stops? That sounds like a real mini-vacay to me,” Hyojong says, “not just some stops. Can’t we stay close to the coast without spending a week in the jungle or whatever?”

“We can, but I thought it might be nice,” Hui says. Hyojong knows that he knows what’s coming, too, but since he’s not doing anything to stop it, he continues on.

“Oh, you did, did you,” Hyojong says. “Whatever happened to me getting a say since I’m on this _journey_ , too?”

“Like I’m keeping you away from so much back at home,” Hui retorts.

Hyojong shrugs, his expression starting to go cold. “Well, my mom probably thinks I’m dead since she hasn’t heard from me in a month and a half,” he says lightly. “But sure, let’s hang out and see the sights, why should the fun stop? We’re all having so, so much fun.”

“I get it, you don’t want to be here,” Hui snaps. “Nobody forced you to come, I only invited you to be polite.”

“And now it’s biting you in the ass,” Hyojong agrees, unimpressed. “My heart is breaking for you, Hui, that your little nostalgia pleasure cruise isn’t going as perfectly as you wanted it to.”

“That’s what you think this is about? Nostalgia?” Hui scoffs. 

“Well, what’s it about, then? You fucked Hyuna over once, now you’re back for round two?” Hyojong shrugs. “Didn’t get enough emotional satisfaction out of turning her life upside down the first time?”

“That wasn’t my fault,” Hui says, his eyes starting to go dark and closed off.

“Maybe not,” Hyojong says, “but this is. She had a good life back there—”

“What, with _you_?” Hui says, then laughs, shaking his head. “Oh, now I get it.”

“Get what? This oughta be good,” Hyojong says to the invisible camera he likes to talk to whenever Hui is being stupid, which is all the time.

“Why you’re so— like this,” Hui says. Hyojong doesn’t like the glint in his eyes one bit. “You want this to be over so you can get back to your cute little life with Hyuna. Never mind that your apartment is the size of a matchbox and you know she’s happier out here than she’s ever been cooped up in there—”

“You watch your mouth,” Hyojong says coldly. “You don’t know shit about her life or what makes her happy.”

“And you do?”

“Better than you do, that’s for sure,” Hyojong says. His mouth moves on its own and he doesn’t want to say what he says next but then it’s too late. “And I’m not trying to fuck her, unlike some people.”

Hui is quiet, his jaw tightening. “What did you just say?”

“You want to fuck her,” Hyojong repeats. “And you’re jealous of me because—”

“Don’t project your pathetic problems onto me,” Hui says, heat in his cheeks. “You’re the one that’s trying to fuck her. It’s really so fucking embarrassing how you’re always hanging off of her, trying to get her to touch you—”

“If I weren’t here, you would have made a move on her the first day,” Hyojong accuses, his own face heating up, his heart beating faster. Is he that obvious? What else has Hui picked up on? He wants so badly to spit in his face and tell him he’s wrong about everything, but he can’t say it, because God, fine, he wants Hyuna, but what’s that got to do with anything? Hui is a capital-D dickwad regardless of what Hyojong wants. “And then you’d get to Brazil and ditch her there while you fucked off to Europe again, except this time you’d really have gotten what you’d wanted, and where would she be?”

“So she’s better off with you,” Hui says. His voice is getting lower the angrier he gets. “Going nowhere, doing nothing, just coddling you 24/7.”

“She doesn’t coddle me,” Hyojong says, rolling his eyes and leaning back, his posture casual although he’s feeling anything but. “We care after each other. You don’t understand what that’s like, you’ve never cared about anything in your life. You just never learned how, it’s not your fault, but leave her out of your attempts to figure out how it works.”

“I don’t know how to care about things?” Hui says, laughing humorlessly. “You don’t know a damn thing about me, why do you always think you know what I do and don’t know how to do?”

“Just look at you,” Hyojong says dismissively. “You’re like a robot. You always know exactly the right thing to say and what to do and you wouldn’t know a genuine emotional reaction if it punched you in the face.”

“Yeah, you wanna try doing that again? See how your Hyuna reacts to seeing her _honey_ beating up on her best friend,” Hui taunts. “You think that’ll make her want you? If I’m out of the picture? Well, honey, you’ve got a big storm—”

“Lie to me and say you don’t want to sleep with her and that’s not the only reason you’re here, give us all a good laugh,” Hyojong says. His nails are digging into his palms under the table, but his posture is otherwise totally relaxed, even though adrenaline is running through him and he knows he’ll regret this and that he's saying shit he doesn’t mean and he knows Hui’s not a bad guy but he just can’t help himself, not when Hui is talking like that about Hyuna, like she doesn’t even matter even though she’s the only thing in the whole world that does.

Hui’s face slowly spreads into a sharp, unpleasant smile. “You, first,” he says.

Hyojong stands up. “You’re a real scumbag,” he tells him flatly. “Whoever told you that buying things for people was the same as making them happy fucking lied. She’d have been so much happier if you’d just written back to her _one time_ —”

“She’s done dwelling on it,” Hui says, his voice going up again. “Why aren’t you? Why are you so fucking obsessed with me? I make her happy, too, so leave it alone—”

“And you’re so selfish,” Hyojong continues, crossing his arms to keep his hands busy. “Again, it’s not your fault, dearest Mother and Father never taught you that you had to care about other people, so you’re playing with her, you’re torturing me, and _you’ll_ come out of it exactly the same, but I—”

“Don’t talk about my family,” Hui says, standing up too, and they’re almost exactly the same height; Hyojong has maybe half an inch on him, but it’s not noticeable when they’re only two feet apart. “You don’t know a single fucking thing about my family, or what they taught me, or who they are.”

“I don’t need to,” Hyojong says. “If they turned out a real piece of work like you, that’s all I need to know. I wonder what Hyuna saw in you in the first place—”

“You could ask her,” Hui says. “Although I’ve been wondering the same thing about you. And you think she would actually want you—”

“Let me tell you, you’re not her type,” Hyojong can’t stop himself from saying. 

“Right, like you are,” Hui laughs. “Oh, you’re hilarious. It’s so _funny_ how seriously you take yourself. She doesn’t need you trying to protect her all the time, she can make her own decisions.”

“And that’s why you pressured and guilt-tripped her into going on this trip with you?” Hyojong says, raising his eyebrows. “All that _I need you_ shit? Because you want her to make her own decisions? Yeah, maybe, as long as they lead straight onto your dick.”

Hui’s eyes flash and he makes a sharp, aborted gesture like he wants to hit Hyojong but stops himself. “Hypocrite,” he says, low. 

“Coward,” Hyojong fires back.

“Nosy asshole—”

“Smug bastard—”

“What’s going on here?” Hyuna says from the doorway. Her mouth is in a tight line and Hyojong’s stomach drops. He wonders, terrified, just how much she heard. “I thought we were done with this.”

Hui glares at Hyojong. “So did I,” he mutters, then slams the book of maps shut and stalks off to his room.

Hyojong breathes out very slowly and can’t bring himself to look at Hyuna, even though he can feel her gaze on him. He shifts his weight and uncrosses his arms, at a loss for what to do with his hands, with his face. His heart is pounding in his ears and thinking about everything he and Hui just said to each other makes him feel sick to his stomach.

“Wow,” is all Hyuna says, going through to the kitchen. “You didn’t punch him again, did you?”

“No,” Hyojong says. He sits back down and presses the heels of his palms into his eyes. He doesn’t know what hurts more, Hui taking the tender thing he feels for Hyuna and using it as ammunition, or knowing that Hui wants Hyuna, too, and that that’s one more thing they have in common. Hell, he might even love her, if he’s capable of it. “Were— were you listening?”

“I had headphones in,” Hyuna says. “Dawn—”

“I know,” Hyojong says, abruptly standing up again. “I know. I know. I’m sorry.” Things can’t go on like this. He, too, goes off to his room and closes and locks the door behind himself, then gasps for air and collapses on the bed, overwhelmed by everything that just happened. And he knows he’ll have to apologize, too, which is almost just as horrible. He’s jealous and he feels stupid for feeling jealous but the longer he thinks about it, the more jealous and the more stupid he feels — they both go up exponentially. 

And he knows he can’t blame Hui for starting this one. Hyojong was the one that pushed the issue, that threw out that first accusation, and now he can’t take it back because they’ve both as good as admitted to it. Hui’s mad at him, Hyuna’s disappointed in him, and Hyojong is both mad and disappointed at himself, and it’s a bad afternoon overall. 

Hyuna’s right. Hyojong hasn’t given Hui a chance, he’s just gone in all guns blazing determined to hate him, and now it’s fucking him over, too. 

There’s nothing to do for it but apologize. Hyojong stays in his room all day, reading his book to pass the time, and he can hear Hyuna and Hui moving around upstairs and quietly talking. When the talking and moving stops and the sun has set, he decides to take a risk and come up for some food. Hyuna’s bedroom door, he sees, is closed, and Hui isn’t around, so he makes himself a small dinner and gets it down in silence, not even having bothered to turn on the light.

When he’s done, he heads outside and lights up a cigarette, standing at the back of the boat and watching the water lap against the ladder. Then he hears some shuffling from somewhere behind him and turns around, spotting Hui sitting alone at the very top of the boat, on the high observation deck Hyojong likes to chill on.

“Shit,” Hyojong mumbles, debating for thirty seconds whether it’s okay to flick his cigarette into the ocean and eventually deciding against it. He stubs it out on a plate and then stands there for another minute, thinking about what to say, what to do. Usually he can fake it until he makes it, but now he’s at a total loss for where to begin.

Probably going up is a start, so he tries to swallow his nerves along with his pride and goes up the steps to the deck. He walks quietly, but not so quietly that Hui will get startled at his sudden appearance, and when he sits down next to him, a foot away, Hui doesn’t react.

They sit there for some time, not looking at each other and not speaking. Hyojong leans back on his elbows and looks up at the stars, and Hui is looking out at the water. Finally, after what could be five minutes or twenty, Hui says, “Why does she call you Dawn?”

Hyojong glances over at him and meets his eyes, but Hui looks away. “It’s kind of a stupid story,” he says. “I know why she started, but I don’t know why she kept doing it. The party we met at, everyone was saying what their first emails were, and hers was— what was it, like hyunabubble or—”

“It was bubblehyuna,” Hui says, his mouth twitching like he’s holding back a smile.

“Right,” Hyojong says, remembering. “And mine was edawn420 or whatever. That’s been some variation of my usernames everywhere since forever. So I don’t know if she thought it was funny or cute or what, but she decided it suited me and she called me E’Dawn for months, and then she dropped the E.”

“At first I thought it was Don, like D-O-N,” Hui says.

“No,” Hyojong says, also trying not to smile. “Dawn, like, uh, sunrise.”

“I know that now, yeah.” Hui goes quiet again. “What did you major in in college?” he asks after a few more minutes.

“Meteorology,” Hyojong says. He lies down flat on his back and wishes there were clouds in the sky so he could tell Hui about them.

“Are you kidding?” Hui says, barely restrained amusement in his voice. Hyojong shakes his head. “Huh. Was it really easy?”

Hyojong remembers the hours of staring at physics calculations until his eyesight blurred, the all-nighters, the memorization routines so severe he was dreaming about cirrocumulus and cirrus and cirrostratus and the hurricanes with their antiquated names, and all topped off by a healthy dose of everyone he knew asking him if it was really easy. “I guess,” he says.

Hui nods and doesn’t say anything else.

“Now are you going to keep asking me about my life or are you going to let me apologize?” Hyojong says. Out of his peripheral vision, he can see Hui’s posture stiffen. “I mean, I’ll tell you anything you want, but can it wait?”

“Okay,” Hui says, sounding guarded, like he’s trying not to get his hopes up.

Hyojong nods, sitting up on his elbows again, then all the way so they’re on a level. Here goes, he thinks. “I’m sorry,” he starts by saying.

Hui laughs, running a hand back through his hair. “What, that’s it? Wow.”

“Fuck you, I was working up to it,” Hyojong says, also kind of laughing. 

“Keep going, then.”

“If you just give me a second, I will.” Hyojong tries again, more relaxed now that Hui’s not so obviously upset. “Okay. I’m sorry. I mean it. I’ve been really fucking mean to you for no reason and I don’t know what my problem is and I can’t say I’m just being protective of Hyuna because you haven’t actually done anything to deserve how suspicious I am of you, so, like. I don’t know. It’s immature, but I think I just decided to hate you and I made it work however I could. I shouldn’t have said all that about your life and how you don’t care about anything, I don’t even think that. I was just— being stupid. Tell me if any of this is making sense, I’m not used to talking about feelings this much.”

“It’s making sense,” Hui says. “Say more stuff about how nice and cool I actually am.”

“No,” Hyojong says, even though a smile is really fighting its way onto his face. “Will you quit interrupting me? I’m trying to do something here.”

“Okay, okay, sorry.”

“I was saying,” Hyojong goes on, “that I was being stupid, because anyone can see that Hyuna loves being around you and that you’re, well— you’re kind of annoying and you’re really preppy but you’re not dangerous or anything, so I shouldn’t have to be so on your ass all the time. She can handle herself, anyway. And about that time at the club… I only keep bringing it up because it pisses you off, but I’ll stop, okay? I don’t know what all you’re going through, now or then, and honestly, I don’t really care, but I don’t have to care to not be a dick.” He thinks about if he missed anything, but he thinks he’s about covered it. He nods and risks a quick glance at him. “That’s it.”

“Solid,” Hui shrugs. “Thanks.”

Hyojong raises his eyebrows. “Thanks? Do you accept my apology or not?”

“I’m deciding,” Hui says, then sighs, shaking his head. “I mean, I owe you one, too. I can be more mature than this, I can handle it when someone has a problem with me, but I pick fights with you and I look down on you, and I shouldn’t. You’re cool. You’ve been there for her and I haven’t. I guess I was a little jealous, too.”

“That’s okay,” Hyojong says, starting to go red. He wasn’t expecting anything in return, and he kind of wishes Hui would stop, because Hyojong always gets embarrassed whenever people try to be emotionally sincere with him. “I don’t care if you don’t like me, it’s fine.”

“But I don’t not like you,” Hui says, looking over to him. “And I really do want you to like me. Not just because I’m used to people liking me, which, okay, I am. I only had an issue with you when you had an issue with me.”

“What?” Hyojong says. “But you— hang on, what?”

“You’re the one that hates me,” Hui shrugs. “I don’t hate you.”

Hyojong isn’t keeping up, too confused by this development. “Well— whatever,” he says. “I’m sorry again.”

“I know. And I accept your apology,” Hui nods. He leans back and lies down, folding his arms behind his head. His hair looks almost white in the blue light reflecting off the water. “Just don’t pull shit like that again or I’ll leave you wherever we stop next.”

“I won’t,” Hyojong says. “Not just because it upsets Hyuna. I don’t like fighting.”

“Coulda fooled me,” Hui says. 

“Okay, if you’re the type that’s gonna keep bringing things up so I’ll keep apologizing, I’m just going to stop you right now, it’s not gonna work,” Hyojong says. “I’m trucing with you.”

“You can’t use truce as a verb,” Hui says. “I think.”

“And yet I just did,” Hyojong shrugs. “Are you trucing with me or not?”

“We’re truced,” Hui nods. 

“Great,” Hyojong says. He really does feel better, so much lighter, and now that he knows Hui isn’t holding anything against him, he doesn’t feel so bad about his feelings for Hyuna, either. “Hey. We can go to Costa Rica if you really want.”

“You know, I was thinking about it some more, and I realized,” Hui says, “that we’ll all get eaten alive by mosquitoes.”

“Oh, shit. Never mind, then.” Hyojong looks over at him. “Well, wherever you want.”

“I just—” Hui cuts himself off quickly like he’d been about to say something he hadn’t meant to say. “We’ll see. We can have votes about it. I won’t keep you from your mom too long, anyway.”

“What about your parents?” Hyojong says, unable to hold back his curiosity now that he thinks he might be kind of allowed to ask.

Hui’s face, previously relatively open, closes off. “What about them?”

“How long did you say you’d be gone for, do they know where you are?”

“I think I’m gonna head back in, get some rest,” Hui says instead of answering. He stands up, stretching, and Hyojong sits up more, unsure of what he said wrong. “Will you drive tomorrow at some point?”

“Okay,” Hyojong shrugs, also getting up. Hui goes for the stairs and Hyojong follows, wondering how long Hui had been out here alone for. 

When they’re back inside, Hui seems to have calmed down and left whatever headspace Hyojong’s question had sent him into, and he looks at Hyojong warmly. “Well,” he says, “good night.”

“Night,” Hyojong says, a little wary. Hui is probably a hugging type, but Hyojong doesn’t want a hug, he’s not ready for that yet. But Hui doesn’t try to go in for a hug, just smiles at him, the smile reaching his handsome, tired eyes, and turns away to go down to his room. Hyojong wants to say something else, maybe thank him for continuing to put up with Hyojong’s antics even though he has nothing to get out of being nice to him, but Hui is already closing his door and there’s no point. 

“And it only took you a month,” Hyuna says the next morning, smiling at Hyojong over her cup of watery instant coffee. “I think that’s a new record. It usually takes you, what, five months to warm up to someone who isn’t me?”

“I’m not _warmed up_ ,” Hyojong grumbles. “I’m just gonna start taking your word for him.”

Hyuna shrugs, waving her free hand around. “Semantics. Anyway, he told me all about it last night, it’s cute getting the story from both sides.”

“What?” Hyojong says, alarmed. “What did he say, exactly?”

“Ask him yourself, since you’re buddy-buddy now,” Hyuna says, laughing at Hyojong’s frown. “Aw, come on, let me be excited about this! All I’ve wanted this whole time is for you two to get along.”

Hyojong feels a pang of guilt. “I know,” he says. “Sorry it took me this long.”

“He was being fucky, too,” Hyuna points out. “It’s not just your fault.”

“I’m still sorry,” Hyojong says, and shakes his head when Hyuna offers him a sip of her coffee. “It’s been hard on you.”

“Yeah, well,” Hyuna shrugs. “Now we can all just relax and have fun.”

Hui comes in very briefly, smiles at them both, grabs a cup of coffee for himself, then goes back out.

“You can steer from in here,” Hyuna calls, “if you want.”

“But it’s nice out,” Hui calls back. “You come out here.”

Hyuna looks at Hyojong, who shrugs. She gets up, finds her sunhat, and grabs Hyojong by the arm to haul him outside with her. He and Hui nod politely at each other again, and Hyuna drapes herself over Hui’s back, leaning her chin on his shoulder like she evidently likes to. Hui recounts some adventure involving one of this boat’s many previous journeys, and Hyojong doesn’t roll his eyes even once during the whole thing, not even when Hui starts waxing poetic about one very specific kind of dessert wine that you can only get in one specific part of Italy. Hyuna jumps in, then, surprising Hui with a lot of trivia about said specific part of Italy, and Hyojong watches them talking and doesn’t feel jealous or left out or bitter, just relaxed and vaguely interested. He’s loath to admit it, but it’s a nice change.

Unlike the former, unspoken truce, this one is a lot more viable and stable. Hyojong bites his tongue whenever he almost snaps at Hui, and he tries to not bicker at all with him anymore, even if it’s friendly. Instead of being antagonistic and hot-tempered, they’re almost overly polite with each other, saying their pleases and thank yous and never maintaining eye contact too long. And conversation comes a little more easily, too, which is great news for Hyuna, who renews her efforts to have group dinners with hitherto unexpressed vigor. 

They spend a couple more days island hopping around Belize, eating ceviche and getting sunburnt, then set off to continue hugging the coast on their way to Brazil. They haven’t discussed it outright, but Hyojong is pretty sure that this easing of tensions between himself and Hui means that they might be making some more extended stops in the countries they pass by. Hui has had maps of Honduras and Panama open on the table for the past couple of mornings, and Hyojong is getting the hint. He doesn’t mind it, though, now that he and Hui have both cautiously established their intentions and are no longer constantly at each other’s throats. Maybe it’ll even be fun, and he has always wanted to see the world with Hyuna.

Now that she knows Hyojong and Hui aren’t going to kill each other any time soon, Hyuna gets a lot more affectionate with Hui, fixing his hair for him when it sticks up and leaning on his shoulder and bumping their hips together when they’re in the kitchen cooking. Hyojong’s not even a little jealous. What he feels is something else, that same undefinable something he’d felt when they were out swimming over the coral reef, but he still hasn’t figured out what it is. Another worm for the can, probably.

“We’re not in any rush,” Hui says to explain the leisurely pace he’s got the boat going at, and then gestures at the sights they’re going past, mountains and trees in the distance.

“When do you need to be in Brazil by?” Hyuna asks, and Hui just shrugs vaguely and changes the subject.

Something is up with Brazil, Hyojong thinks to himself. Something is up with Hui’s family. But he’s not going to ask about it. If Hui wants to tell them, he’ll tell them on his own schedule. 

They stop at another coastal town and get more fruits and vegetables, and luck out by finding some pre-made frozen meals, which immediately get stowed in the freezer strictly for emergencies only. And Hyuna insists on them getting a cake for some reason, red velvet. That goes in the fridge until such time as she decides it’s ready to be eaten. Hyojong stocks up on RedBull, Hui on green tea. The fridge is visibly separated into three very different sections. Hyojong’s heart hurts sometimes when he looks at it, but he doesn’t know why.

The previous night, they’d stayed up late talking, so it’s another lazy afternoon aboard the _Seahorse_. Hyuna is eating half a grapefruit with a special pointy spoon (“no, it’s not a spork,” she’s been insisting all morning), Hyojong is still working his way through Stephen King’s bibliography, and Hui is having toast and attempting to read a local newspaper. When Hyojong moves, stretching out his legs, he can feel Hyuna’s ankles and, a little further away, Hui’s. Hyuna wiggles her toes against Hyojong’s calf and he smiles, pulling his leg back again.

Hyuna offers him a spoonful of grapefruit, but he shakes his head. She does the same to Hui, and he leans in to bite it off the spoon. She smiles at him fondly, then takes another bite herself. “So,” she says. “I think we should have a threesome.”

Hui chokes on his mouthful of fruit and toast and spends a few seconds coughing. Hyuna offers him a bottle of water, which he wordlessly waves away. Hyojong, meanwhile, is staring sightlessly at his page in the book, scared to look up because he’s almost completely sure he heard her wrong or hallucinated that. 

But he finally looks up, and Hyuna is looking at him evenly, eyebrows raised in a slight challenge. Hui has finished coughing and is now just wheezing slightly. 

“Why not, right?” Hyuna says, looking from one to the other. “It’s not like you both don’t see me that way. It’s not like I don’t see you both that way. So. It’s the best of three worlds.”

Hyojong very slowly closes his book. Horribly, shamefully, his first thoughts aren’t even of Hyuna and what having sex will do to their relationship as best friends; they’re of Hui. Just because two people are no longer actively hating each other doesn’t mean they’re ready to sleep together, but — and this is almost worse — he’s not opposed, to his own immense surprise. He can’t deny that Hui has been on his radar as of late. He glances across the table and meets Hui’s eye. Hui looks strange, open and guarded all at once, and Hyojong holds his gaze briefly before turning to Hyuna again. She’s expectant, but neither he nor Hui have anything to say yet.

“You don’t have to decide right away if you want to,” Hyuna continues. “And if you’re going to say yes, don’t say yes because I want you to say yes. Say yes because you want to, you know, have a threesome. With me. And each other.”

“I think I need to go lie down,” Hui says faintly.

“Oh, don’t be such a prude,” Hyuna scoffs. When she goes to take another bite of grapefruit, Hyojong notices that her fingers are trembling just slightly. She must have been working up the courage to ask for a long time. “But fine, go. No deadline for deciding. I just want it to be something that’s on your minds, because it’s been on mine.”

It has? Hyojong is feeling too many things. Not only does Hyuna know that he wants her, she wants him, too, _and_ she wants Hui in on all of it. Which isn’t surprising, he’s handsome and entertaining and will probably be a very attentive lover, and—

Hyojong closes his eyes and pushes all of those thoughts away before he can psych himself out of this. He looks at Hyuna again, and she’s placidly continuing to eat her grapefruit as though she hasn’t just changed everything with seven words. 

“Just let me know,” Hyuna adds, her tone deceptively light. “Meeting dismissed.”

Hyojong can’t get up fast enough, fleeing like a scared animal back to its burrow. He locks himself in and leans against the door, his head spinning and his stomach twisting every time his mind flashes back to how easily Hyuna had said it all, to what she was implying, to what she wants to do.

He goes over to sink down onto his bed, feeling warm and cold at all at once. Cautiously, he allows himself to think about Hyuna, Hyuna’s body, the curve of her breasts, the way her hair curls around her ears, the way she bites her lip. And Hui, Hui with his narrow waist, his handsome face, his soft hands. Hyojong thinks about them both, a familiar blurry fantasy coming up in his mind, undoing the buttons on Hyuna’s faux-French work uniform one by one, except instead of his hands undoing the buttons it’s Hui’s, and it’s Hui’s lips kissing down her throat until she’s gasping. He feels a rush of heat through him, searing all the way down to his toes, but it’s not jealousy-heat, it’s just _hot_ , and he covers his eyes with his hand and bites back a whine.

Why has it taken him this long to realize how he feels about Hyuna? And Hui, too? The longer he thinks about it, the more sense it makes and the more stupid he feels. Hyuna’s known the whole time, and Hui was flirting with him when they first set out. As always, Hyojong is the last one to get the memo. 

But he sure gets it now. And he knows he’s going to say yes. Not just because Hyuna wants him to, but because he wants to, too.

He stays in his room all day thinking about threesomes and the meaning of life, subsiding on the snacks he’s inadvertently squirreled away in there over the course of the past few weeks. Hyuna’s walking around upstairs, but he hasn’t heard Hui’s voice all day. He must be doing the same thing Hyojong is, then, which is a comforting thought.

The sun is starting to set, and Hyojong is getting lonely, missing Hyuna. He doesn’t want to risk talking to her about the potential threesome, though, especially in case Hui isn’t going to go through with it and the conversation gets Hyojong’s hopes up for nothing. He’s sensitive about things like this, and if it goes wrong he doesn’t know how he’ll look Hyuna — or Hui, for that matter — in the eye again.

So he stays in his room. He tries to read, but images keep flashing through his mind of three bodies in one bed. When a hesitant knock comes at his door, he swears from shock and closes the book, then goes very still and quiet, waiting to hear who it is.

“Hyojong?” It’s Hui. Hyojong doesn’t know if that’s a relief or much, much worse than if it had been Hyuna, but either way he can’t breathe so well all of a sudden. “Are you in there?”

Hyojong gets up unsteadily and goes over to open the door. Hui is flushed pink, even his neck, but other than that, he looks normal. “Hey,” Hyojong says, not stepping aside to let him in. This will probably be a doorway kind of conversation, anyway. “What’s up?”

It’s a very stupid question, and Hui’s lips threaten to tug into a smile, but he gets it under control. “Wanted to ask your thoughts on the state of the stock market, of course,” he says. “What do you think is up, huh?”

Hyojong rolls his eyes, but he immediately feels more at ease. “Just checking. If you’d asked me I’d have said the sky.”

“Well, I’m not in the fifth grade, so I like to consider myself above that kind of humor,” Hui says, leaning against the doorframe.

Hyojong knows they’re dancing around the subject at hand, but he doesn’t mind. “What grade are you in, then, sixth? You’re way too advanced for me.”

“Tell me about it,” Hui says, grinning briefly before he evidently remembers what he came to talk about and shuts up. “So. Uh.”

“Uh,” Hyojong agrees, and Hui smiles weakly but that’s it. He bites his lip, eyes somewhere on the floor, then looks up at Hyojong, and it’s a look Hyojong hasn’t gotten from him yet, warm, almost through his eyelashes.

He realizes he’s being given Hui’s equivalent of bedroom eyes, and the already-small cabin feels even smaller.

“What are you thinking?” Hui asks, his voice quiet so Hyuna won’t hear, or maybe so Hyojong has to lean in closer to get every word. 

“What are _you_ thinking?” Hyojong sends back. He doesn’t want to admit to anything first or put too many cards on the table. He needs to know Hui’s on the same page, first.

“I’m— I— I don’t know,” Hui says. He looks nervous, too, but he’s soldiering on, which is admirable. “Do you… do you want to?”

It’s a loaded question. Hyojong doesn’t know what to say, even though he knows his answer. “Do you?” he says, his voice unfamiliar to his own ears, lower, hoarser, softer.

Hui takes in a breath and, meeting Hyojong’s gaze and holding it, nods.

“Me, too,” Hyojong says after a moment. Saying it is easier than he’d expected, and Hui’s face lights up before he schools it into a neutral expression.

“Okay,” he says. “Okay, cool. Bye!” He makes a quick escape up the stairs, leaving a bemused Hyojong alone in his doorway. 

If things were real before, now they’re even more real. Hyuna wants to, Hyojong wants to, Hui wants to. Hyuna wants them both. _Hui_ wants them both. 

It’s been a long time since Hyojong has slept with anyone. There was a very short-lived fling with some guy he met through Hyuna’s work, but that was more than ten months ago. Since then, he hasn’t even had any one-night stands. Hyuna has, and she doesn’t always warn Hyojong in advance so he doesn’t come home when they’re in the heat of it, that’s the only reason he knows. He has no idea how much sex Hui does or doesn’t have, but considering he’s a rich and handsome eligible bachelor, he doubts he’s in a dry spell. But Hyojong doesn’t feel intimidated. He knows he’s good. It’s just an issue of getting the chance to prove it.

He makes his way upstairs after some time, and sees Hyuna at the dining table reading the newspaper Hui had had earlier. Hui’s puttering around in the kitchen, and even from here Hyojong can see that he’s still blushing.

“Hi,” Hyuna says, looking up at Hyojong and smiling. “Where have you been all day, huh? I saw a huge cruise ship, I wanted to show you — I could see the waterslide on the top deck even from this far away.”

“I’m in,” Hyojong says. Why beat around the bush? He doesn’t know if Hyuna wanted them to try it tonight if they were all on board with the idea, but why put it off? 

Hyuna is confused for a second, and then she gets it and her eyes go wide. “Really?” She turns quickly, staring at Hui in the kitchen. “Hui?”

Hui slowly sets down the spatula he’d been about to put away. “Yes,” he says. “I mean— me, too. I’m also in.”

“Oh, my God,” Hyuna says, literally flinging the newspaper across the room in her rush to get out from behind the table. She’s almost frantic, heading in Hyojong’s direction, and her arms are outstretched for him. “Come here, come here, come here—”

He steps forward, and in the second before she kisses him, he sees that her eyes are hungry like he’s never seen before. But then she’s kissing him, his best friend in the whole world, the other half of his soul, she’s kissing him and winding her arms around his neck and tangling her fingers in his hair. He makes a weak noise and she swallows it, biting his lip and tugging it with her teeth and grabbing one of his hands to put on her back. He’s lost and she’s finding him, pressing up on her toes to get as close as she can, and if she weren’t holding him up his knees would have given out by now. She’s relentless, soft one second and ravenous the next, leaving Hyojong’s head spinning and his heart battering against his ribs. Her tongue is so sweet in his mouth and he can’t think, he can’t breathe, he doesn’t know where he is or his own name, all he knows is Hyuna, Hyuna, Hyuna. 

Hyuna pulls back, gasping in breaths, and even though her eyes are still hungry, she reaches up to push a messy piece of hair out of Hyojong’s forehead tenderly. She looks like she wants to say something, like she can’t tear her eyes away from him, but then she takes one hand off his body and reaches back. “Hui,” she says, hoarse. “Hui, baby, come here.”

She turns around blindly and walks right into him, because he’s there already. Hyojong has no idea how long he’s been there; his lips are buzzing and his vision has tunneled. But Hyuna, upon melting against Hui’s chest, moans and doesn’t get the chance to finish the moan because Hui is sweeping her up in a big movie kiss that’s been a lifetime coming, his arms around her waist, a hand on the back of her head. She runs a hand up his shoulder into his hair, crowding up against him, and he lifts her up onto her toes so she can kiss him more deeply. She says something against his mouth that makes him smile a huge, blinding smile, and she pushes him away and heads for her room, snagging Hui’s hand first, then Hyojong’s along the way.

As they walk, Hui’s shoulder bumps into Hyojong’s, and Hyojong’s whole body feels like a live wire and he shivers. He glances over at him for as long as he can bear to look away from Hyuna, and Hui is looking at him, too, his eyes darkened.

But then they’re going into Hyuna’s room. Hyojong barely has time to look around — he’s never been inside before — before Hyuna grabs him and pushes him towards the bed, then Hui, too. “What are we comfortable with doing?” she says, all breathless, but she doesn’t give them time to answer, stepping back to yank her shirt off over her head. She takes a hair tie from her wrist and puts her hair back into a high ponytail quickly, too, her cheeks flushed, her eyes bright. 

“Anything— anything you want,” Hui says, dazed, and Hyojong makes a sound in assent. 

“You’re both so cute,” she says, dimples popping when she smiles, “looking at me like you’ve never seen a girl before. Oh, here, watch, you’ll love this.” She reaches behind herself and undoes the clasp of her bra — which, Hyojong notes in the half-second before it’s gone, is lacy and pretty, she must have dressed up for this — and lets it fall to the ground. 

Beside him, Hui mumbles something religious, and Hyojong’s drinking her up with his eyes. Hyuna is clearly in her element as the center of attention, rolling her shoulders back to show off. She looks at Hyojong, and his eyes dart lower, down to her waist and her jean shorts, then back up to her face. She gets the hint and laughs, pleasantly surprised. “Someone’s impatient,” she murmurs, but in another moment she’s wiggling out of them, too, sliding them down her legs and kicking them aside. She leaves her panties — white lace to match the bra — on, then steps forward and pushes a knee between Hyojong’s. “Now you,” she says, reaching down to grasp his shirt. “Not that it’s anything we haven’t seen before, you tease. Off, off.”

Hyojong can’t even react to her jokes, he’s too far gone, staring at her every step of the way as he leans back to pull his shirt off. She sighs happily once he’s thrown it aside, putting her hands on his chest and pressing one palm to the heart tattooed on his shoulder. “My favorite,” she murmurs, leaning down to kiss him just briefly, and then she’s going over to Hui. Much bolder than Hyojong, he takes her by the waist and pulls her into his lap, and she giggles, throwing her arms around him and pulling him to lie down on the bed. They cling to each other and kiss like old lovers reunited, and after Hui has her rolled over so she’s lying on her back, he sits up again and takes off his shirt.

Hyojong’s mouth goes dry. He’s never let himself look, let alone stare, so he had no idea Hui was this fit under those preppy shirts, a neat line running down his abdomen, endless perfect skin, and Hyojong wants to touch him so badly he feels it like a physical ache. He knows exactly where he’d fit his hands, how he’d pull his body in, and he almost starts reaching out for him until Hyuna beats him to the punch.

“You’re _so_ hot,” she tells him, sitting up so she can kiss Hui again, and again, and again. He kisses her back, his hands on her waist, and Hyojong watches, dizzy, as one of his hands slides lower, his fingertips brushing the lacy edge of her panties. She giggles again and smacks his hand away. “Wait! We have all night, what’s your rush?”

“I want to see you,” Hui murmurs into her mouth, and Hyojong blinks out of his daze, crawling onto the bed to be with her. He puts his hand where Hui’s had been, and Hyuna looks at him with starry eyes, reaching out to trace her finger over his lips like she can’t believe what she’s seeing is there for her to touch. He opens his mouth and licks her fingertip, and she’s smiling as she leans over to kiss him deeply, so deep and so slow that he can’t hold back another quiet, weak sound, both hands on her hips by now.

“Dawnie,” she breathes, her lips moving against his as she talks. “My Dawn. Aren’t you mine?”

“Yes,” Hyojong says reflexively without even thinking about it, his eyes half-open so he can watch her as she kisses him. “You know I am.”

“I just like to hear you say it,” Hyuna says, then nips his lower lip teasingly and pulls away, returning to Hui. “And you?”

“What about me?” Hui says. He rides one hand up her inner thigh, making her shudder and arch against him, her hips squirming in his lap. 

“Are you mine?” Hyuna says, leaning down to bite his earlobe.

Hui gasps quietly and his eyelashes flutter. “I will be if you make me,” he challenges, and Hyuna seems to like that a lot, her hips grinding on his lap again. 

“Okay,” she murmurs, starting to kiss down his neck. “That can be arranged. Can I suck your dick?”

“Holy shit,” Hui says, his confidence visibly immediately going out the window. “Yeah— yes— what about Hyojong?”

Hyuna turns around and looks at Hyojong thoughtfully, and Hyojong spares her the time and says, “I want to eat you out.”

Hyuna’s cheeks flush more and she nods, reaching out for Hyojong, and he comes in close, letting her run her hand over his jaw and his hair. “You do, huh? Been thinking about it?”

“Yes,” Hyojong says, fighting to keep his eyes open even though it would be so easy to just lean into her touch and waste away under her hand, letting her pet him like that forever. “And I want you to sit on my face.”

Hyuna pulls away from Hui immediately and, within a second, shoves Hyojong down so he’s lying down flat. Her breath is shallow, and she reaches down to undo his jeans and he finishes the work for her, kicking them off along with his boxers. Her hands are trembling again, Hyojong notices through his fog.

“You want to?” Hyojong murmurs, sweet and quiet, and Hyuna huffs incredulously. Instead of answering, she takes his hand and puts it between her legs, and he can feel how wet she already is even through her panties. He flexes his fingertips slightly to press against her and she shakes, curving in on herself, but then moves away from his touch, snapping her fingers twice and pointing to the spot on the bed in front of her.

“Hui,” she says. “Here. But I don’t want to make you come yet, okay?”

“Okay,” Hui says, almost falling off the bed in his haste to strip off and get over to where she’s directing. Hyojong sees him upside down, but he doesn’t need to see him right side up to see that his cock is gorgeous, long and flushed pink like the rest of him, and already hard just from what they’ve done so far. Hyuna runs her fingers very lightly up the length of him and Hui shivers, almost shying away but instead staying where he is.

“If you can’t breathe, lemme know,” Hyuna says to Hyojong, sitting up so she can slide her panties off. “Tap my leg or something.”

“I’ll be fine,” Hyojong says, his eyes fixed on the spot between her thighs, his mouth watering. “Please—”

“Shh, shh,” Hyuna soothes, coming over to him. “I’ll give you what you want. Want a kiss first?”

“Please,” Hyojong says again, tilting his chin up, and she leans down and kisses him, a loose strand of hair tickling his face. She breaks the kiss before it can get too deep, then straightens, and finally swings a leg over him so her knees are either side of his shoulders. He puts his hands on her thighs and slides them up, reverent and slow, and when he gets to the crux he thumbs her open for him, seeing her, and above him, she trembles and makes a very soft noise.

His eyes are still open, and he watches Hui lying down and Hyuna reaching out for Hui’s waist, watches Hui’s hand going towards her hair. He’s still watching when he opens his mouth and runs the flat of his tongue up her slit, but then he can’t see anymore so he just imagines the way she flushes and presses her face into Hui’s hipbone and bites her lip. After that, he closes his eyes and gets to work.

Somewhere far, far above him, Hui lets out a high, breathy sound and Hyuna hums, and Hyojong doesn't want to be outdone so he presses his tongue between her folds and licks up, then gives her clit the barest suction to make her squirm, then licks her more firmly. She tastes like the ocean but so much better, hot and sweet, and why would he want to breathe when he can be buried in her entirely, his jaw working and his nose bumping against her clit when he presses his tongue inside? 

She starts riding his face, rocking back and forth, and he meets her every movement, and far above again Hui makes that noise that makes Hyojong want to see him. Hyuna must be good with her mouth, too, and Hyojong wants to find out, wishes they’d started doing this years ago, can’t believe how much time the three of them have collectively wasted when they could have been doing this all along. 

Hyojong loses himself in what he’s doing, Hyuna’s thighs on either side of his head muffling his hearing, and all that’s left is his tongue and her pussy and the taste of her. He can’t breathe, but he doesn’t want or need to, all he wants and needs is to keep going, he’s dying to taste her when she comes, but he wants to see her, too, and Hui, he wants to drag his palms over Hui’s whole body and never let him get away, and he’s starting to get lightheaded but he doesn’t stop what he’s doing. Hyuna’s legs tremble, and Hyojong, encouraged, licks her out harder, teasing her clit with his lips like a kiss, and the noise she makes is audible even over his pulse roaring in his ears.

But then she’s pulling off, and Hyojong gasps in a chestful of air, belatedly noticing how his lungs are burning. “Why?” he says, his voice once again unfamiliar in its rawness. He licks his lips. His face is wet all the way down his chin, dripping to his neck.

“I don’t want to come yet, and neither does Hui,” Hyuna answers. He drags his eyes open and looks at her, his cock jerking when he sees what a mess she is, lips puffy and face flushed. He lifts his head to look at Hui, and Hui’s not much better off, lying back against the sheets and panting. “Oh, my God, look at you,” she adds, reaching out to run her fingers through the mess on Hyojong’s lips and chin. She shows them off to Hui, teasing.

Hui leans down and sucks her fingers into his mouth and she makes a shocked sound, her free hand jumping between her legs instinctively before she forces herself to stop and whines. “Both of you are trying to kill me,” she says resentfully, then moves away, lying back next to Hui against the headboard. She rubs her legs together like a cricket so her thighs will press on each other and temporarily relieve the ache she must be feeling from going from 100 to 0 so quickly, and she opens her arms to call them both in close. Hui goes to her left, Hyojong to her right, and she sighs blissfully, turning her head to catch Hyojong’s wet mouth in a kiss.

Hyojong’s brain is starting to work again, and he’s starting to remember some things that he wanted to do. His hand trails down her torso and he brushes a thumb over one of her nipples, which makes her body stiffen for a second, and then she breaks out into shivers, arching up so he’ll do it again. He breaks the kiss so he can watch what he’s doing, and he sees Hui’s hand going between her legs, his thumb pressed to her clit and two fingers vanishing lower down.

“Oh, my God,” Hyuna mumbles, hiding her face in Hyojong’s cheek. “Oh, my fucking God, I’m so smart, I’m such a genius, give me the Nobel prize, make me president, oh my _God_ —” She turns her face the other way and Hui kisses her immediately, deep and messy, and then Hyojong goes in for another kiss, and then Hui again, and they’re both practically clamoring for her mouth, faces so close together that Hui’s breath brushes Hyojong’s cheek every other second. Hyuna starts giggling when she realizes they’ve been alternating, and then Hui must curl his fingers or something because she swears loudly and grabs a tight handful of Hyojong’s hair, her moans catching in her throat like hiccups. Hyojong looks down to watch her rocking her hips on Hui’s hand, his fingers tightening on her nipple to keep her squirming, and she writhes under them, constricted between their bodies and loving every second.

Hyojong moves down to kiss her neck as Hui keeps doing whatever he’s doing between her legs, and Hyuna groans, arching up off the bed. “Fuck me,” she says breathlessly, grinding her hips down. 

Hui and Hyojong both pause. The room smells like sex and Hyuna’s hair is sticking to her forehead. Hui glances at Hyojong, who’s also at a loss, and then down at Hyuna. “Uh, which—” His voice comes out weak, so he clears his throat and tries again. “Which, uh, one? Who?”

Hyuna groans but out of irritation this time, opening her eyes. “Do I have to do everything around here?” she gripes, but then takes her time looking first at Hyojong, then at Hui. She narrows her eyes thoughtfully, then nods. “Hui,” she says. “Is that okay?”

“Yes,” Hui says immediately. He glances over at Hyojong, who also nods, his hand petting down Hyuna’s body again. 

“Fuck yeah,” Hyuna sighs, arching her back again and stretching her legs out. “Mm, condoms— to the right, they’re over there, in a bag behind the lamp.”

That’s on Hyojong’s side, so he goes to see, finding a small plastic bag he recognizes from the store in Belize. _Girl things_ , he realizes, amused, as he opens it and finds multiple packages of condoms and two bottles of lube. Just how long has Hyuna been planning this? He works a box open and takes out a wrapped condom, then tosses it across the bed to Hui, who catches it easily.

Hyuna gasps quietly, and Hyojong looks at her. “What?”

“My biggest kink,” she whispers. “Teamwork.”

Hyojong rolls his eyes in a brief moment of clarity and reaches out to pinch her nipple. She yelps and laughs, grabbing his hand and using it to haul him close to her. “Will you stay close?” she breathes, sliding her other hand up his chest and gripping his chin, bringing him in for a kiss. “I want you close to me.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promises, a reflexive shiver running down his spine as he listens to Hui tearing the condom packet open. He lifts his head away from her to watch Hui and Hui is looking at him, too, then they both get shy and look apart. Hyojong thinks about what if it were he who’d just been getting fingered open, getting ready for Hui’s cock, and the thought is so overwhelming that he has to hide his face in Hyuna’s shoulder. That ends up being a nice place for his mouth, and he can’t kiss without biting or bite without kissing so he does a little bit of both, leaving small red marks in his wake as he goes. 

Then Hui is lacing the fingers of one hand with Hyuna’s and they’re looking each other deep in the eyes as he spreads her thighs open. Hyojong curls up at her side, his head on his shoulder, looking up at Hui dazedly. Hui lines himself up and, after a nod from Hyuna, starts sliding in. His face is radiant like he’s having a sacred vision and Hyuna quivers under him, her other hand grabbing for Hyojong, fingernails digging into his arm so hard it hurts. 

“It’s good?” Hui pants. He always looks so good but he looks so fucking good now, sweat glowing on his cheekbones and his eyes dark and his hips rolling deep into Hyuna. 

“Feels so good,” Hyuna gets out, turning her head to the side, away from Hyojong, so she can breathe out harsh breaths, moaning hoarsely with each long thrust. Hyojong sits up to watch, his hand caressing and squeezing her, unable to get enough. Hui speeds up his thrusts slightly and Hyuna covers her face with one palm, gasping against her hand. “Fuck— Hui, Hui— oh, I want you so bad—”

“I’m here,” Hui says, his lips red and bitten, too. “I’m yours, you win.”

Hyuna laughs but it sounds raw and much more like a moan than a laugh, and she arches up and sighs, her hands going up above her head to let her stretch more. “I want you to flip me over,” she murmurs. “Fuck me from behind, can you do that? Dawn— I want to be on top of Dawn.”

“Hyuna,” Hui says weakly and it sounds like he’s begging for mercy, because he probably is. He pulls out of her and she pushes at Hyojong’s shoulder until he’s lying down flat again. Then she rolls over him, her elbows braced on either side of his head, and kisses him as she adjusts her position. Hyojong can barely even imagine the view Hui must be getting right now as Hyuna puts her knees on the bed and arches her back, but it must be something else based on the way Hui makes a low noise like a sob. 

Hyuna’s kissing Hyojong when Hui pushes back inside. She moans and bites his lip just a shade too hard, but he loves it, putting his hands on her body, wanting to be close. His fingers link with Hui’s on her hips for just a moment, then he moves on, playing with her nipples and then, when her breath is shallow on his mouth, putting one hand down low to tease her clit as Hui thrusts into her.

Hyuna’s elbows nearly give out and she practically shrieks, but before Hyojong or Hui can get worried and stop, she’s panting, “Good, good, it’s good, keep fucking going, don’t stop, I love it, I love it.”

Hyojong presses his fingers down more insistently, rubbing in tight circles, and he can feel the way Hui is moving inside her. His own cock, neglected since the start, is begging for attention, but he ignores it. The only thing that matters is Hyuna, the way she’s moving, the way she’s breathing, her dark eyelashes on her cheeks, her red lips.

“Hyuna,” Hui gasps, up above somewhere. 

“Yeah, baby, you wanna come?” Hyuna mumbles into Hyojong’s lips. “If you just wait a second I’ll— _ah_ —” Hui has started fucking her a little harder, so Hyojong works with him, flicking and rubbing his fingers up and down on her clit until she’s shaking apart and her whole body is tightening and finally she comes, sobbing into Hyojong’s neck.

Hui’s done not long after, his sharp low gasps all melding together into one moan, and he presses his lips together to keep quiet, his thrusts slowing down. Hyojong watches him over Hyuna’s shoulder, his eyes lidded, and when their eyes meet, Hui trembles.

Hyojong turns his head and kisses Hyuna’s ear. “You good?” he whispers. Hui pulls out of her slowly and does something with the condom, but Hyojong is barely paying attention. Hyuna is kissing him so sweetly, her hand creeping down his body, and Hyojong feels like a drawn-tight bow, thrumming from every touch.

The bed creaks as Hui gets back on. Hyuna breaks her kiss with Hyojong to catch her breath, and Hyojong looks up at Hui. He’s so gorgeous, how has Hyojong not noticed before? Hyojong’s tongue darts out over his lower lip unconsciously, and Hui leans down, takes his jaw in his hand to keep him still, and kisses him.

Hyojong makes the most embarrassing noise he’s ever made in his life, part moan, part gasp, part mewl. Hui’s lips are soft like Hyuna’s and when Hyojong feels the press of his tongue inside his mouth he feels so good he thinks he might lose his mind. Then there’s a hand — no, _two_ hands on his dick, Hyuna and Hui both, and Hui sucks on Hyojong’s tongue and bites his lower lip and Hyojong comes so hard tears prick his eyes.

His ears are ringing. His body aches all over. Hui kisses him slowly one more time and then pulls away. “Was that okay?” he asks. A genuinely self-conscious frown is creasing his sweet, handsome face.

“Wuhh,” Hyojong says, lifting his hands and pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes to rub the tears away. “Uh huh.”

“Hyuna?”

“Wow,” Hyuna sighs, all dreamy, from somewhere far away. 

“Me, too,” Hui says, a smile in his voice, and lies down next to Hyojong.

“I wanna tell my best friend about the sex I just had,” Hyuna murmurs, pressing against Hyojong’s side, “but you’re both right here.”

“Tell us about it anyway,” Hui suggests. His arm is around Hyojong, fingers lightly skimming Hyuna’s spine.

“Mm, no, I’ll just get turned on again, nice try,” Hyuna groans. She then sits up abruptly, blinking. Her hair is all over the place and she’s too beautiful to be looked at directly. “Cake!”

“What,” Hyojong says. Hui smells so good, smells like salt and laundry detergent and Hyuna, and he doesn’t want to ever move. “What cake?”

“My cake, the red velvet cake,” Hyuna explains. “Go get it, I want it.”

Hui starts laughing, quiet. “Hyuna, did you get a cake to celebrate us having a threesome? In advance of us actually doing it?”

“So what?” Hyuna says defensively. “Go get it!”

“I don’t want to, I’m tired,” Hui says. He leans his head back against the pillows and Hyojong wants to kiss his neck but he really, really doesn’t want to move. “I’ll rock-paper-scissors Hyojong for it.”

“Look at him,” Hyuna says, all playful anger going from her voice immediately as she brushes Hyojong’s hair back from his face. “He’s in no condition to move. But maybe if he really loved me—”

Hyojong lifts his arm wordlessly, and he and Hui rock-paper-scissors best of three until Hyojong wins. “I’ll go anyway,” he says, slowly sitting up. “Hui did more work than I did.”

“Finally, a little appreciation around here,” Hui says, smiling broad and bright. “Come back soon.”

“Do you want the whole thing or just a slice?” Hyojong asks Hyuna, scooting to the edge of the bed. He stretches his arms up to the ceiling and rolls his head from side to side, feeling good inside and out. He’s almost scared to look at them again and he feels like he should pinch himself just to make sure it wasn’t all a dream.

“The whole thing,” Hyuna says, rubbing her legs together again and then moving up the bed to drape herself over Hui. “And three forks.”

“Aw, you’re going to share?” Hui murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“What? No, I’ll be eating it with all three hands,” Hyuna says, then pinches Hui’s nose. “Yes, dummy, I’m gonna share. Count your blessings.”

“Here’s one and two,” Hui says, sliding his hands over her chest, and she laughs, scandalized.

“Men! Pigs! Dawnie, are you getting the cake or not?” 

“Okay, okay,” Hyojong says, finding someone’s pajama shorts — most likely Hyuna’s — amongst a pile of other clothes on the floor and pulling them on. Hyuna attempts to wolf-whistle and Hyojong rolls his eyes affectionately, stumbling towards the door. “Anything else you want me to pick up?”

“Yeah, just bend over, lemme check you out,” she says, grinning. “But no, just the cake and three forks and you.”

“Done and done and done,” Hyojong nods. He goes out of the door, absently scratching his lower stomach and then realizing it’s still got come on it. Once he makes it to the kitchen, he cleans his abdomen and his face up, and then very carefully pulls the cake out of the fridge and carries it, along with three forks and three small plates, back to the bedroom. He keeps himself busy so he doesn’t have time to think about how _right_ that was, how natural, how easily it came to them all what to do and how and to whom. The way Hui kissed him is the last thing on his mind — he’ll think about it later. 

He brings the cake into Hyuna’s room and Hyuna whoops hoarsely. Hui is leaning his forehead against her shoulder and mumbling something probably incredibly soppy, because he stops when Hyojong comes in and goes red, hiding under Hyuna’s arm. “Let’s not eat in bed, we’ll get crumbs everywhere,” Hyuna sighs, petting Hui’s hair. “Scoot that cute butt over, baby, let’s move. And someone give me a shirt, I’m cold.”

Hyojong hands the cake over to her, then hunts through the veritable mountain of laundry he found the shorts in to pick out a shirt. After Hyuna has set the cake down at the foot of the bed, she cuddles up to Hui’s side again, turning the shirt right-side out, and Hyojong just marvels at them for a moment. Hyuna has a few fading bite marks along her shoulder and she’s cackling happily to herself about the cake, and Hui, sitting up with the sheets pooled around his waist, looks so fucking good, his hair artfully mussed by Hyuna’s hands, his lips pink, a healthy glow on his skin. He must feel Hyojong staring at him because he looks up and quirks an eyebrow. “Are you gonna have any?”

“Yeah,” Hyojong says, coming over to sit next to Hyuna. “Unless Hyuna was kidding about sharing.”

“What’s mine is yours,” Hyuna says grandly, then starts snickering.

“What?” Hyojong says. He’s dazed and sex-happy, his joke processing skills much slower than usual. “What are you snickering at?”

Hyuna pokes Hui in the ribs. “Nothing,” she says, gleeful. “What’s mine is yours, get it?”

Hui looks at Hyojong and shrugs, evidently not getting it, either. “So does that mean we can have some cake or not?”

Hyuna rolls her eyes and pokes him again, but less gleefully. “Nobody around here understands my genius. Yes, you can have some fucking cake.”

“Some fucking-cake,” Hyojong says, distributing plates. “Cake in honor of fucking.”

Hyuna snorts a laugh. “That’s more like it,” she says fondly, leaning over to kiss Hyojong’s cheek. She hesitates there for a moment, gently nosing along his jaw, and then kisses his cheek again. “Is it okay if I kiss you all the time now?” she murmurs, and the tinge of uncertainty in her voice makes Hyojong’s heart clench. How can she still not know, after all this time, that Hyojong loves her with everything he has, that she can do anything she wants to him or with him forever?

“Yeah,” he replies, unsure how else to convey that emotion, and she smiles, kissing his cheek and then the corner of his mouth.

“Good.” She pulls back and turns to Hui, resting her chin on his shoulder. “And you? Is it okay, too?”

Hui tilts his head down and gives her a little kiss on the mouth. “Yes,” he says. Hyuna seems very appeased and starts dealing with the cake, just going directly in with a fork and not bothering to cut it, and Hui meets Hyojong’s eye over the top of her head. As before, they can’t hold eye contact for very long, both getting shy and looking away. Hyojong was determined not to think about the kiss or go over tonight’s events in his head yet, but he can’t help it, he wants to kiss him again, and he knows he’s done apologizing but he wants to kiss him all better, kiss away the lines Hui gets from frowning when he thinks no one’s looking, kiss the birthmark on the back of his neck like someone spilled freckles down his nape, kiss his hands, kiss him where he’d hit him the night they met, kiss his mouth until he can’t tell whose lips are whose anymore, feel what Hyuna felt tonight, Hui inside him, Hui everywhere—

“Dawnie,” Hyuna says, pushing him. “Where’d you go? Snap out of it.”

Hyojong shudders, snapping out of it as requested, and blinks at her. Hui is by her side looking politely concerned and eating a bite of cake, and Hyojong goes faintly pink. “Sorry. Just zoned out. I’m fine.” Hyuna’s not easier to look at, though, still naked and beautiful and now that Hyojong knows what she tastes like he doesn’t know if he’ll ever be less hungry again. 

“Here,” Hyuna says, picking up the third fork and scooping up a piece of cake, which she wiggles towards his mouth. “Eat up, you’ll feel better.” He takes the fork, and she leans against Hui’s shoulder, shrugging and saying, “He hasn’t slept with anyone for, like, nine, maybe ten months, so—”

“Hey, what the fuck,” Hyojong protests around a mouthful of cake, going more pink. “How do you know that? Just because I haven’t brought anyone home—”

“So anyway, he hasn’t slept with anyone for nine months,” Hyuna continues, grinning at Hyojong, “and it’s a lot when it’s been a while, right? He’s overwhelmed. Dawn, what was that guy’s name again? I can’t believe you sexiled me to fuck Aladdin.”

“He didn’t tell me his name, actually, I called him Aladdin the whole time,” Hyojong says, totally deadpan. Has Hyuna been paying attention to his sex life? Hyojong would think something of it if he hadn’t been paying attention to her sex life, too, for mostly platonic reasons.

“No kidding,” Hui says, blinking. “Really? That’s kinda weird.”

Hyuna rolls his eyes. “He’s trying to be funny,” she says. “Ignore him.”

“His name was Kyle,” Hyojong says, having more cake. “And I didn’t _sexile_ you, I just gave you the option to be somewhere else while he showed me the world, shining, shimmering, eight inches.”

“Either he used a glittery condom or your joke doesn’t make sense,” Hyuna sighs. “Eight, though, really?”

“No, that was for the joke, too,” Hyojong says. “Anyway, why does this just taste like chocolate cake?”

Hui clears his throat, and Hyojong looks at him for the first time in a little while and sees that his cheeks are pink, too. Hyojong wonders what he was thinking about. “Do you… not know what red velvet cake is? It’s just chocolate cake with red food coloring.”

“Wasn’t it a good idea?” Hyuna says, glowing proudly.

“Do you mean the cake or the threesome?” Hyojong asks, risking another look at Hui. They smile at each other all dopey and shy, then look at Hyuna quickly before they can get too caught up in it. 

“Mm. Both,” Hyuna hums. “Don’t you think? Praise me for my genius.”

“It is a very good cake,” Hui agrees, once again sounding a little strange and definitely shy.

“The sex wasn’t bad, either,” Hyuna says, sighing. “Damn, why don’t I have more than two friends? I need to gossip about this with someone. And… we should do this again sometime, right?” She looks at both of them, gauging their reactions. “Like, soon?”

Hui pensively eats a bite of cake, and Hyojong sees him nod. Hyojong waits for Hyuna to look at him and nods, too, and she lights up in a brilliant smile.

“I’ll try and fit some time in my busy schedule,” she teases, leaning over to kiss Hyojong’s cheek as he sets his fork back on the main plate. “Wanna hear it? I’ve just finished planning tomorrow.”

“Sure,” Hyojong says, unable to help smiling when she’s in a mood like this, infectiously silly.

“Okay. Eleven, approximately: wake up. Eleven thirty to noon: breakfast. Noon to one: lust after Hui. One to two: lust after Dawn. Then… fuck, what was at two? Oh, right, painting my nails. And then I found a copy of _La Divina Commedia_ in the library and I was going to read it while my nails dried. Then back to lusting after everyone until dinner, and then dinner, and then maybe an evening swim if I’m feeling up to it. Then bed.” She smiles, batting her eyelashes at Hyojong. “Well? Any proposed amendments?”

“Not nearly enough lust,” Hyojong says. “I like to block out at least half the day for that. The rest can wait.”

“Hmm,” Hyuna says thoughtfully as Hui coughs to hide a laugh behind her. “I’ll see if I can make it work. Thanks for the suggestion. Now go put the cake away, unless Hui wants any more.”

“No, all done,” Hui says, yawning. Hyojong can tell by the way his hand is on the sheets that he wants to be closer to Hyuna, to put his arm around her and curl into her the way Hyojong does when he’s tired, but he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to yet. 

“Do you wanna have a sleepover?” Hyuna says, her eyes going bright again. “If you need convincing I’ll do my Marilyn Monroe impression, look—”

“Oh, jeez,” Hyojong mutters, collecting the cake and its accoutrements. “Brace yourself.”

“Won’t you stay?” Hyuna says, all breathy, as she pushes her shoulders back to push her breasts out. “I get ever so cold at night, won’t you stay and keep me warm?”

“Does she do this a lot?” Hui says weakly.

“Only when she wants something, so… yeah,” Hyojong says. “You get immune to it.”

Hyuna gives up on the impression, scowling. “ _Immune_? I’ll have to work harder, I guess. Anyway, will you stay or not?”

“How could I not, after that?” Hui says, smiling. “Wowza.” 

“Can you do a JFK impression, by any chance?” Hyuna hums, leaning her arms on Hui’s shoulder. “We could do an act. It’d be sexy.”

“Uh,” Hui coughs. Hyojong almost feels bad for him, but this is too funny for him to feel bad, and besides, Hyojong has to deal with this all the time. Hui will just have to learn how to keep up. “No, not a JFK impression. Elvis, though, I can do an okay Elvis.”

“Then we’ll do a talent show,” Hyuna nods. “You can be Elvis, I’ll be Marilyn, and Dawn can do that thing where he sits super still for a long time and then moves and scares passerby. Or he can bench press a million pounds.”

“That’s just a party trick,” Hyojong says. “Didn’t I just show you a real talent? Wasn’t that talent show enough for you?”

“That was pretty good,” Hyuna admits with a grin. “Now go, quick, put the cake away then come back and we can do each other’s hair or whatever else happens at sleepovers.”

“Sleeping and overing,” Hyojong says wisely, then goes out of the room accompanied by Hyuna’s laughter. He returns what’s left of the cake to the fridge, puts the dishes in the sink to be washed later, and makes his way back to the room, where he can hear Hyuna and Hui talking again. That, Hyojong muses, is another thing Hui can provide for her that Hyojong can’t; he’s a talker, and he can Hyuna are perfectly matched in their ability to go on about things for a while, they can make excellent conversation. Hyojong likes to stay quiet and listen to what she’s got to say, putting in one-liners or comments every once in a while. With Hui they’re always talking over each other, and it used to bother Hyojong, but now he’s glad for it.

Hyuna has turned off the main light and left on just the side lamp. Hui is sitting up by the headboard and Hyuna next to him, her arm over his waist, his arm around her back. It’s a pretty picture, the way she’s looking up at him, and Hyojong waits in the doorway, remembering what it was like to be under them while Hui fucked her, wondering what they’ll do next time. Hyuna glances over and sees him there, then raises her hand and beckons him over. “Are you sleepy?” she asks, stretching out to turn the lamp off, too.

“Always,” Hyojong says with a shrug, going over to be on her other side. “I thought we were sleepovering.”

“We can do that some other time,” Hyuna promises. “Right now I wanna spoon.”

Hyojong shrugs again, getting under the sheet with them. “There’s some in the kitchen.”

“See? He thinks he’s funny,” Hyuna says to Hui, leaning up to nibble his earlobe. “He’s wrong.”

“I think he’s funny,” Hui says, a little strained because of the way Hyuna is kissing him.

“Did he pay you to say that?” Hyuna asks, squeaking when Hyojong pokes her right where she’s ticklish, under her ribs. She pushes his hand away, laughing, then changes her mind and grabs it again to pull his arm around her. “Don’t poke me, spoon me.”

“I wanna make more jokes but I can’t think of any,” Hyojong mumbles, kissing her shoulder where he’d been biting earlier. 

“Lie down, Hui,” Hyuna murmurs, then huffs softly, patting Hyojong’s arm. “That’s okay, honey, you can think of more jokes in the morning.”

“Really? My very own jokes?” Hyojong says, hearing Hui’s very quiet laughter from in front of Hyuna. He keeps kissing her shoulder, making her shiver, tickled, as he moves up to her neck. “How kind of you.”

“I’m very generous, I know,” Hyuna says. She pulls Hui closer, curling around him as Hyojong curls around her. “Now shut up. Let’s sleep.”

Hui makes a soft sound in agreement, and Hyojong stops kissing Hyuna’s neck, just settling his mouth near her shoulder instead. He’s more tired than he thought, so it’s not long before he’s drifting off. Hyuna is warm and small in his arms, and if he stretches out his fingers just a little he can touch Hui. The room still smells like sex, but now there’s cake, too, and the sea. Hyojong falls asleep with his face in Hyuna’s hair and his arms around her, just the way he likes it. 

He wakes up like that, too, but it’s significantly less pleasant when her hair is in his mouth and his eyes. He pulls back, blinking and coughing quietly, and sees that Hui has gone, and the audible rumble of the engine means he’s started driving for the day. Hyojong wants to get up and have breakfast, but he might end up in a room alone with Hui, and even though last night they kissed and Hui made him come, he’s still a little shy about not having Hyuna there with them to keep the conversation flowing. There’s no chance of them arguing anymore, but Hyojong still doesn’t know how to act around him, especially not after last night. 

Hyojong lies next to Hyuna, who is still peacefully asleep, and thinks about last night. The taste of Hyuna, the way she rode his face, the sounds Hui was making from somewhere above. And then Hyuna on top of Hyojong as Hui fucked her, how her whole body shook when she came. Her sounds, Hui’s sounds. Hyojong’s head starts going fuzzy and he closes his eyes to dwell on everything for one more moment, then he opens them again and tries to clear his mind. Hyuna said she wanted it to happen again soon. He can make it until then, surely. 

Hyuna sneezes herself awake half an hour later, sitting up and half-yelling in surprise when she sees Hyojong there. “Oh, right,” she says, a big, smug cat’s smile spreading on her face. “We _fucked_.”

“Good job,” Hyojong says, blinking at her affectionately.

She yawns, pushing her hair out of her face, and looks around. “Where’s Hui?”

“Driving, I think,” Hyojong shrugs. “He was gone when I woke up.”

“He used to sleepwalk,” Hyuna says, yawning again and leaning against Hyojong. “It was horrible. He almost broke his ankle falling down the stairs once when he was sleepwalking, but he only sprained it, thank God.”

Hyojong hums, lifting his head more when Hyuna’s hair resumes tickling his nose. “Freaky.”

“Aren’t you going to kiss me good morning?” Hyuna demands, tilting her head up insistently, and Hyojong’s heart does a few somersaults before he leans down and presses their lips together. 

They kiss for a while, just little dry brushes of lips, each one making Hyojong just as nervous and excited as the last. Hyuna starts whispering things to him between kisses after a while, sitting up so she can cuddle up closer to him. “I’ve always wanted to,” she breathes. “It’s so hard not to kiss you. I’m gonna be kissing you all the time now, I told you. You have such a cute mouth. You ate me out so good last night, honey, you were so good. And you had fun, right? I could tell you had fun.”

“I had fun,” Hyojong murmurs into her lips. Hyuna’s never been much of a morning person, but evidently, kissing Hyojong is waking her up like coffee. The way she’s talking is heating him up from the inside out, making his heart molten, and he’ll melt regardless of whether she keeps kissing him or stops. He can’t believe she’s wanted to do this all this time and had never tried anything before, but to be fair, it’s the same the other way around. They’re both equally to blame for wasting time. They’re making up for it now, though.

“I like having fun with you,” Hyuna whispers, kissing him again, and Hyojong has a flash of selfishness, of wanting to keep Hyuna private, not letting Hui close again, but then he remembers the way Hui kissed him, the way Hui looked at him — as well as how much Hyuna clearly loved having twice the attention she normally would in bed — and he changes his mind. “Should we go have breakfast?”

“You can have cake,” Hyojong suggests, and Hyuna laughs, nipping his lip before pulling away. 

“And eat it, too? Wow,” Hyuna hums. She stretches her hands up, yawning, then gets up and finds something to wrap up in other than a shirt. “Cake for breakfast, that’s a bold move. It’s hard for a day to get better after you have cake for breakfast, since that’s about as good as anything can get.”

“I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve,” Hyojong shrugs, also getting out of bed. “We’ll see how your day goes.”

Hyuna laughs, doing a mischievous little dance. “Hit me with your best shot. Now come on, come on, I want breakfast. If you make even one joke about sausage I’ll throw you overboard.”

“You said it, not me,” Hyojong says. He lets her grab his hand and haul him out to the dining room, yawning as he shuffles behind her. He catches a glimpse of Hui at the wheel through one of the windows and looks down quickly, almost tripping over himself. _Get it together_ , he thinks sternly. _Get it together and maybe he’ll kiss you again._

Hyuna gets the cake out and heats up some coffee, and Hyojong stays with her, wanting to go outside but not wanting to be alone with Hui for fear of doing something stupid. Hyuna says, “Watch this,” and reaches over to grab a small walkie-talkie type of thing on a wire from behind the seat. She presses a button on the side, pointing to where they can both see about half of Hui. “Good morning, baby, have you eaten yet?” she says into the device.

Hui visibly nearly falls off the chair from shock and Hyuna laughs, elbowing Hyojong, who nods to express his amusement. Hui evidently then finds his own equivalent device, because Hyuna’s crackles and he says, “How did you even find this? I had no idea we had these. No, I haven’t eaten. Uh, over.”

Hyuna presses the talk button, still grinning. “Do you want cake? I’ll bring you some. We also have bread that I can toast. I found it with magic, duh.”

“I could go for some toast and maybe some coffee,” Hui replies. “Couldn’t you have come out here to say all that?”

Hyuna shrugs and puts the little radio back, then gets up to make a piece of toast for Hui. “Will you bring it out to him?” she asks Hyojong companionably, and he blinks, surprised.

“Well, if you really want me to,” he says, trying to play it cool. “I thought you were gonna do it.”

“I can do it,” Hyuna shrugs. “Just thought you might want to… you know.”

“What?”

“You know,” Hyuna says again, wiggling her eyebrows.

“I don’t know,” Hyojong says. “I might want to what?”

“Oh, never mind, I’ll take it,” Hyuna huffs. “You’re so dumb.”

“What are you talking about?” Hyojong laughs. “What do you want me to do?”

“I already said never mind,” Hyuna mutters. “I’ll take it, it’s fine. Sheesh. Boys.” She puts the toast on a plate, makes a cup of coffee, then goes out to the main deck to give it all to Hui. Hyojong watches, and he can see them kissing, Hyuna probably giving Hui the same treatment she was giving Hyojong earlier with the small kisses and the sweet-talk. Hyojong again feels a small flash of possessiveness, but he’s not sure why, considering how readily he agreed to a threesome and how much he loved it. He’s all mixed up again, same as he was when he and Hui were still regularly arguing. But it feels different, it’s not a bad kind of mixed-up, he’s just confused. It’s confusing. He wishes he could tell Hyuna about it, but she might misunderstand, so he keeps it to himself.

The day proceeds according to Hyuna’s schedule, and when she goes to her room to paint her nails and read, Hyojong makes himself scarce, as well. He and Hui were perfectly civil to each other whenever they got the chance to speak, like it had been after the unspoken truce, but it was still uneasy in the room, and neither of them could really look at each other. Hyuna, oblivious, made everything better as she always does, but now that she’s off doing her own thing, Hyojong would prefer to be alone.

They all emerge and come together again for dinner, and Hyuna sits between them, portioning the pasta Hui had made earlier. Hui tells a story about some boarding school adventure, which even Hyojong has to admit is entertaining, and he responds in kind with the story of the time he supposedly wrestled an alligator — supposedly because he doesn’t remember all of it, considering it was very dark and it could have just been a very large, very pointy trash bag. 

“I heard about that,” Hyuna nods. “I was back in Orlando by then but I still heard about it through the grapevine. I mean, where else could you have gotten that from?” She gestures to Hyojong’s forearm, which does, in fact, have a few small scars that look like they’ve come from an alligator’s side teeth.

“It could have been a cayman, I guess,” Hyojong says. “We’ll probably never know.”

“You don’t have a Captain Hook complex about alligators?” Hui asks, and Hyojong wiggles his fingers at him to demonstrate his hand hasn’t been eaten by a crocodile and replaced by a hook. “Well, either way, wow. I’ve never wrestled an alligator, but I’ve wrestled Hyuna, which is almost the same thing.”

“I kicked his ass,” Hyuna tells Hyojong flatly. “It was almost too easy.”

“You were so much taller than me!” Hui laughs. “I was six!”

“It’s your fault for being so short your whole life until now,” Hyuna sighs. She gets caught up in the memory for a second, though, smiling and rubbing Hui’s arm. “You were so cute. Following me around all the time and crying.”

“Okay, you always say that, but I didn’t cry that much,” Hui mumbles, leaning closer to her anyway.

“Yes, you did,” Hyuna says, patting him affectionately. “Little crybaby. I cared more about it when you cried than your nannies ever did.”

“Oh, my God, Hyuna, don’t,” Hui says, covering his face with one hand. “Don’t tell Hyojong about the fucking _nannies_.”

“Why, because I’ll make fun of you?” Hyojong says, picking up a penne with his fingers and eating it. “Bingo. I don’t like that it’s nannies, plural, that’s just really greedy. Save a nanny for the rest of us.”

“They all kept quitting,” Hui groans. “I was too difficult to raise.”

“That’s because he’d only listen to me,” Hyuna says smugly. “The best-behaved little baby you’ve ever seen. But with anyone else, an absolute terror.”

“You were scary, my nannies weren’t,” Hui mutters. “And I turned out okay, right? The discipline got to me eventually.”

“You turned out great,” Hyuna assures him, gently rubbing his chest. “And I wasn’t scary, take it back.”

“No, you were definitely scary.”

“I wasn’t! I was adorable! Your parents loved and feared me in equal measure—”

“Yeah, they feared you, ‘cause you were scary—”

“I was _not_ scary, I was just a little bossy—”

This continues for some time, and Hyojong just eats his pasta and watches them as they transition from bickering to kissing, which doesn’t take long. Hyuna is giggly and can’t sit still, and Hyojong can see from here the way their tongues slip together when they tilt their heads a different way or take a breath.

Hyuna breaks away eventually, her face pink, and smoothes her hair down. “I wasn’t scary, I was cute,” she says decisively. “And that’s that. Eat your dinner.”

Hui is smiling to himself as he picks up his fork, but his smile very quickly calms down when he glances at Hyojong. Hyojong can’t imagine why, since he’s having a fine time and doesn’t want Hui and Hyuna to feel constricted by his presence, but he doesn’t comment, just finishes his own plate and takes it to the sink. When he comes back, Hyuna is done eating, too, and she’s got a faux-innocent look on her face that immediately makes him suspicious. “Well?” he says, leaning back in his seat. 

“Well, what? I was just thinking that we should have a slow evening,” Hyuna says, still innocently. “You know, watch some Netflix, relax.”

“There’s no Netflix out here, I haven’t had Internet for weeks,” Hui says, raising an eyebrow.

“It doesn’t have to actually be _Netflix_ per se, just… a movie, maybe, surely you’ve got a DVD player somewhere on this thing,” Hyuna goes on. “And we can watch it and chill.”

“Netflix and chill,” Hyojong says, resting his chin in his hand. “That’s what this is about.”

“Exactly,” Hyuna says. “Good job. We watch a movie, we chill, and then if midway through I’m sitting on your cock, well, what’s so wrong with that?”

Hui chokes but Hyojong was expecting something along those lines, so he just shrugs. “Sounds like an okay plan. What movie?”

“The movie’s just a front and not entirely necessary,” Hyuna admits. “The sex is what really matters.”

“You don’t say,” Hyojong says, amused, but the longer he dwells on what Hyuna said, the warmer he gets under the collar. 

“So let’s go,” Hyuna chirps, getting up and taking Hui’s hand. “You okay?”

“Never better,” Hui nods, standing up with her. “You’re just very… direct.”

“How would you rather I said it?” Hyuna says, leaning up to kiss his jaw. “Midway through a hypothetical movie, I’d like to be atop Dawn’s manhood? No, even vaguer than that, let’s leave anything anatomical out of it. Finding pleasure whilst astride his thighs. Should I go on?”

“I actually can’t come unless you start listing synonyms for dick,” Hyojong says, following after as Hyuna leads Hui to her room. “The wilder, the better.” He’s starting to get nervous, his palms sweating, because although last night he ate her out and made her come, actually fucking her is different, and she probably thinks it’s different, too. Maybe that’s why she said it in advance instead of trying to make it happen spontaneously; Hyojong needs some time to adjust to the idea.

Hyuna gets them to the bedroom, then turns around and kisses Hyojong, her arms going around his neck. “I’ve been waiting to get you here all day,” she murmurs.

“Yeah? Your scheduled lusting hour went well, I take it?” Hyojong jokes, but his heart is doing flips again, it’s still so surreal that Hyuna wants him this badly. 

“You have no idea,” Hyuna says, then gasps as Hui comes up behind her, crowding in close and kissing her neck when he’s moved her hair aside.

“Hyuna,” Hui murmurs, his hands going down her waist to her hips. “Are you wearing anything under this skirt?”

“Shut up, I’m not _that_ desperate,” Hyuna huffs. She squirms, pressing in to be against Hyojong again and kissing him, her eyes still lidded so she can look.

“Well, are you or aren’t you?” Hui says. Hyojong closes his eyes, warmth starting to roll through him, and sucks on Hyuna’s lower lip, listening to what Hui is saying, the way his voice sounds.

Hyuna is quiet for a moment, kissing Hyojong distractedly, then she stops kissing him and huffs into his cheek. “Okay, maybe I’m not, but it’s not because of _you_ , it’s just more comfortable, I do it all the time.”

“Really? Because it seems like it’d be a lot easier to— how did you put it? Sit on Hyojong’s cock, atop his manhood? If you weren’t wearing panties,” Hui points out. There’s something about hearing the word ‘cock’ from his mouth in that musical, serious voice that makes Hyojong shiver, and he tilts his head, catching Hyuna’s lips in another kiss. “Yeah? What do you think?”

“I think she knows what she’s doing,” Hyojong murmurs, “and we should let her do it.”

Hyuna makes a soft noise into his mouth and gives his hair a gentle tug which makes Hyojong’s stomach dance. “Let’s go lie down,” she breathes. “I’ll show you what I’m wearing.”

Hui’s hands go up again, from her waist to her front, and Hyojong pulls back enough to see his thumbs running over her nipples. “No bra, either,” he notes, his voice amused.

Hyuna half-heartedly smacks his hands away, going red and pressing back against him. “Fuck off! I’m comfortable,” she insists. “It’s separate from my seduction plan.”

“It is, is it?” Hui hums, squeezing her. Hyuna swears, still pink, and pushes Hyojong back slightly so she has room to turn around in Hui’s arms so she’s facing him.

“What was in your afternoon coffee, huh?” she says, leaning up to kiss him while her hand runs low and grabs him through his jeans, getting a good hold on his cock and not letting up even when he gasps. “Viagra?”

“Not unless you spiked it,” Hui manages, and Hyuna smirks, pushing him away, too, and going over to lie down on the bed.

“Someone undress me,” she says, stretching out luxuriously. “Then we’ll see whether I’m naked under my clothes or not.”

“Technically,” Hyojong says, approaching the bed and reaching out for her, “we’re all naked under our clothes.”

Hyuna laughs, sitting up to help him as he tugs her shirt. “You know what I mean.” He pulls the blouse off and throws it aside, then slides his hands up her bare skin, tracing over her ribs, her navel, and then taking two perfect handfuls of her breasts. She sighs, soft and sweet, and he leans in to kiss between them and eventually up to her neck. “Dawn,” she breathes. “You’re so good to me, honey.”

“I just like touching you,” Hyojong murmurs, kissing a soft spot under her earlobe.

She sits so she’s angled more towards him and spreads her legs, her skirt riding up her thighs. Hyojong feels molten on the inside again, Mount Vesuvius spilling over when she says, “So touch me.”

“Do I get a prize if it turns out I guessed right?” Hui says, on the bed behind Hyuna, and he puts an appreciative hand on her waist, thumb brushing up and down.

“Yes,” Hyuna says, biting her lip and smiling. “I haven’t decided what it is yet, but it’ll be good, so you’d better hope you guessed it.” Then she shivers and bites her lip harder to keep in a noise as Hyojong puts his hand up her skirt, fingertips skimming between her thighs and up to where she’s already hot, blooming like a flower under his touch. “Dawn—”

“You guessed right,” Hyojong tells Hui, coaxing more shivers and sweet little sounds out of her the more he pets. “What’s his prize?”

“Stop teasing me,” Hyuna huffs, squirming her hips down, but Hyojong keeps all his touches light, wanting to get her dripping. “His prize is— it’s— it’s extremely exclusive, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity— _fuck_!” Hyojong has pressed a finger right to her clit but taken it away again almost immediately, and she hisses like an angry cat, arching her back. “If you’re going to tease me like this I’ll have Hui do it, he won’t be so mean,” she threatens, so Hyojong relents, putting his hand on her properly and letting her rock down against it however she wants. She moans quietly and turns her head back to kiss Hui, who’s smiling into her lips.

“What’s my prize?” he murmurs, biting her lower lip and putting a hand on her chest again, teasing at a nipple until she’s quivering. 

“Why are you both torturing me?” she groans, gasping when Hyojong slips one finger inside her. “What did I do to deserve this? Your prize is that when I’m riding Dawn you get to tell me how to do it.”

Hui considers it for a moment, his eyes widening with surprise. “I’ll take it,” he decides. 

“I’m just— I don’t want to have to think about anything, and you’re smart, you can do the thinking for me,” Hyuna explains, squirming again. “Dawn, let Hui take over, you get naked.”

“As you wish,” Hyojong says, drawing his finger out and scooting away. Hui runs his hand up her thigh and pushes her skirt up around her waist, making a low, appreciative sound and then putting his fingers where Hyojong’s had been. Hyuna leans up for a kiss, needy, and Hyojong gets so distracted watching them that he forgets what he’s meant to be doing until Hyuna thumps her hand on the bed and pulls him out of his daze. He strips quickly, still watching them, and Hyuna comes up for air, all flushed and breathless.

“Condoms,” she reminds, pointing, and Hyojong nods, going over to get another one from the box he’d opened yesterday. “God, Hui, just take it off, it’s only getting in the way.”

“But you look good,” Hui says, mournfully plucking at the skirt with his free hand. 

“I’ll look better with it off,” Hyuna says. “Now come on. If you tease me any more I’ll die but I’ll kill you first.”

“Fine,” Hui mumbles, drawing his hand out from under her skirt and then lifting her up by the hips so she can shimmy out of it. “And we’re not teasing you, just taking our time.”

“You’re taking _my_ time,” Hyuna huffs, kicking the skirt away and then cuddling up close to Hui, her hands moving down to unzip his preppy board shorts. “Next time maybe I’ll tease you like this, see how you like it.”

“Oh, I’ll love it,” Hui shrugs, sending Hyojong a quick grin. Hyojong, already too turned on to use his brain much, smiles back, then lies down next to Hyuna, putting a hand on her thigh.

“Hello,” she murmurs, turning around and cuddling up to him. “I missed you, where were you today?” 

“Doing my scheduled nail-painting and lusting,” Hyojong says, letting their legs intertwine so she can press in as close as she wants, her thighs settling comfortably around his. “Same as you.”

“Sounds like fun, why wasn’t I invited?” Hyuna pouts, kissing him, and when she runs her hand down his body, tracing the v-lines on his hips down to his dick, he makes a weak sound and hides his face in her neck. “Invite me next time.”

“You’re always invited,” he mumbles. “Standing invitation. VIP pass. Anything you want.”

“I told you what I want,” Hyuna says, her breath hot on his cheek as she curls her pretty fingers around him and strokes slowly. “I want to ride you. I want to be able to see you when I’m fucking myself on you. Do you trust Hui to tell me how to do it?”

“Yeah,” Hyojong says, pressing open-mouthed kisses into her neck. “Yeah. I want it.”

“You’ll get it,” Hyuna promises. She moves away and sits up, bumping back against Hui and melting into him briefly. “Sit up, honey, or do you want to be lying down?”

Hyojong sits up, dazed, and holds out his hand for the condom, which he put down somewhere and has since lost track of. Hui presses it into his palm and Hyojong pulls the packet open to roll it on. And then Hyuna is sitting up and moving into his lap, her hands on his shoulders, little shivers running down her body. Her eyelashes brush Hyojong’s cheek when she leans in for a kiss, slow and wet. “Ready?” she whispers.

Hyojong doubts he could ever be ready for what she’s about to do, but he nods, putting his hands on her waist to help her down. Someone’s hand, evidently Hui’s, steadies Hyojong’s cock, and Hyuna lifts up, moves back, and, not breaking eye contact with Hyojong, slowly sinks down on him.

Hyojong makes another impossible, embarrassing noise, his fingers digging into her hips, and struggles to keep his eyes open and his hips down. Hui is saying something from somewhere but it sounds muffled, and Hyojong’s vision is tunneling again. Hyuna is so hot and so tight and Hyojong has forgotten how good it can be, but it’s never been good like this. Hyuna starts moving her hips, little movements back and forth the same way she was grinding on his tongue yesterday night, and Hyojong wants to cry, thinks he actually might, looking at her like she’s the only thing in the world because she is.

“Do figure eights,” Hui’s voice says, and Hyuna nods breathlessly, rolling her hips front, side, back, side. Hyojong dimly remembers something about a prize, about Hui calling the shots, but that’s the farthest thing from his mind when he’s inside Hyuna. He couldn’t care less exactly how she’s doing it, all that matters is that she’s doing it at all, bringing him home each time she breathes and tightens around him.

“Dawn,” she’s saying, her hands braced on his shoulders, hanging on for dear life. “Is it good, honey?”

“Yes,” he breathes, desperate, dying for it. She smiles, a flush rising high on her cheeks, and leans down to kiss him.

“Circles, counterclockwise,” Hui murmurs. His voice is very near, but Hyojong can’t look away from Hyuna to see where he is or what he’s doing. His eyes slip closed. “Now up and down.”

“You want me to bounce on it?” Hyuna says, teasing and beautiful, and Hyojong actually whimpers, somehow managing to unclamp his fingers from her hips so she has more room to move.

“Not yet, but soon,” Hui nods. “Hyojong, you okay?” Cool fingers, wonderful, cool fingers touch Hyojong’s cheek and he leans into the touch without thinking, lips pressing to whoever’s palm it is. “Yeah?”

“He’s fine,” Hyuna says, sounding very proud of herself. “It’s good, right?”

“It’s good,” Hyojong mumbles into the lovely, cool palm, lips pressing kisses to the wrist, teeth scraping when Hyuna twists her hips just right and makes Hyojong hiss out a harsh sound.

Whoever’s hand is touching Hyojong’s face tucks Hyojong’s hair behind his ear in a gesture so tender that it must be Hyuna, but Hyojong can feel both of her hands on his shoulders, and so it must be— but he doesn’t get it— he keeps his eyes closed and tries not to think about it. He has enough to deal with as it is, logic puzzles are the last thing he needs right now. The hand soon vanishes again, anyway. Maybe he imagined it.

“Now bounce,” Hui murmurs, and Hyuna plants her hands against the headboard and does as she’s told, rising up and coming down fast and hard in Hyojong’s lap. Hyojong lifts his head and opens his eyes just enough to get an eyeful of the way she’s moving, and he almost feels feverish, dizzy, and Hyuna moans and slows down again with another word from Hui. 

“Dawnie, why are you looking at me like that?” Hyuna pants, leaning down to kiss him, fast and bitey. 

“I love you,” Hyojong gets out, and Hyuna kisses him harder.

“Everybody knows that,” she breathes, a smile in her voice, one hand in his hair, the other on the front of his shoulder over his tattoo. “Hui, touch me.” Hyojong doesn’t look, but he can tell when Hui does what Hyuna asks because Hyuna moans, tightening around Hyojong’s cock. 

“Small circles,” Hui murmurs, barely audible over Hyuna’s sweet noises. “Whatever direction you want. Feel good?”

“Don’t ask rhetorical questions,” Hyuna sighs, her breath catching on another moan. “Feels so fucking good I’m gonna lose it. Kiss my neck.”

So Hui must be either behind her or next to her. Hyojong can picture it with his eyes closed and his mind clouded, the way Hui is kissing her and touching her while she works herself down on Hyojong. He wants to see but he knows he’ll be coming way too soon if he sees everything he’s imagining, so he waits, wishing whoever’s wonderful cool hand was touching his face would touch him again.

Hyuna leans in and kisses him, arching her back to press more of her body against him, and it’s not long before she’s bouncing again, her hands running over his back and shoulders, nails scratching. She’s getting more vocal, checking in with Hui every few seconds as he gives her new ideas on how to move, and Hyojong can barely keep up, his face tilted up like a flower to the sun in the hope she’ll kiss him more.

She does, muffling all her noises with his mouth, and he can tell from the way she’s shaking that she’s close. She wraps her arms around him and clings on so tightly that he can’t breathe. He finally drags his eyes open to look at her, and he sees what a state she’s in, glowing with arousal and her lips trembling and bitten red. Hui’s hand is rubbing her quickly and sometimes it brushes Hyojong’s stomach, making electricity sear through him. 

Hyuna comes gasping and squirming on Hyojong’s cock, pressing back against Hui, who is putting his hands all over her like he can’t get enough. She takes a second to catch her breath, taking in rough, unsteady gulps of air, and bumps her lips against Hui’s in a messy kiss before resuming rolling her hips slowly, coaxing Hyojong closer and closer to the edge. 

“Come for me, honey,” she breathes, leaning forward to press her mouth right to his ear so only he’ll be able to hear her. “Come on, come for me. I love you so much, honey. Come for me.”

And he does, he’ll always do whatever she asks, he bites her shoulder and comes just as hard as he did last night, leaving his head spinning and his lungs burning from disuse — he’s been holding onto her too tightly to be able to breathe. She’s kissing him and cooing at him and the beautiful cool hand is back, on his shoulder this time, and Hyojong opens his eyes and stares at the ceiling and knows that if he died right now, he’d be dying happier than anyone has ever died before.

Hyuna kisses him one more time, then lifts up with Hui’s help and slips off to the side. Hyojong distantly remembers that he has to do something with the condom, so he tugs it off, ties it, and then gets up on shaky legs to throw it into the trashcan. By the time he makes it back to the bed, Hyuna is pushing Hui to lie down and she’s moving lower on the bed, settling by his side. “Dawnie, come here,” she says, pointing to the other side. “It’s Hui’s turn. This was the real prize, baby, the other thing was just a distraction.”

Hyojong is so tired but he knows what Hyuna’s thinking and the idea makes a happy chill run down his spine, so he goes where directed, resting his chin in his hand for now.

“You want it messy?” Hyuna murmurs, looking straight up at Hui as she takes him in hand and licks up the side of his dick. He shivers immediately, unable to stay still, and she grins, repeating the action. “We’ll give it to you messy.”

Hyojong waits until she moves her hand slightly, then leans in to just barely nudge his lips against the skin of Hui’s cock, saying hello. He looks up at Hui through his eyelashes, then kitten-licks, and Hui shivers again, this time making an unsteady sound. Hyojong remembers abruptly that he’s really good at this and moves up, licking over the head and swallowing it down, being careless with his lips and tongue, sloppy, like Hyuna said. She’s kissing and sucking somewhere near the base and Hui can’t stay quiet, his eyes fixed on them with that same reverent, adoring expression from yesterday as he moans and works hard to keep his hips down. 

They kiss right next to his cock, so filthy and messy that they’re kissing him as much as they’re kissing each other, and Hui’s hands are twitching at his sides. He wants to touch them, Hyojong can tell, and he would tell him to feel free to grab whatever he wants but his mouth is too busy to do so. He’s sucking wet kisses along the side of Hui’s cock and Hyuna is working on the head now, her lips tight, and Hyojong nuzzles her cheek insistently until she moves out of the way and lets him take over. He sinks down, eyes fluttering closed, and takes him deep, then slowly moves back up again, savoring every inch.

“Nice view, huh?” Hyuna murmurs, and Hui tries to agree, but his words come out all breathy and desperate, his cock jerking slightly in Hyojong’s mouth. 

“Yeah— yes, it’s nice,” he says hoarsely. 

“You can pull my hair,” Hyojong lifts up to say, and Hyuna takes the opportunity to take his place, going down just as far on Hui as Hyojong had if not farther. Hui, even though he’s an absolute wreck, still manages to look uncertain, but he lifts one of his hands and pushes his fingers into Hyojong’s hair, grabbing hold. The touch feels awfully familiar, his skin nice and cool against Hyojong’s fever, and Hyojong tries to remember where he’s felt it but doesn’t dwell on it much, instead licking near his base where he’s sensitive and kissing Hyuna around his dick again.

Hui’s chest heaves with his deep breaths and he pulls on Hyojong’s hair, hesitantly at first but then more firmly when Hyojong doesn’t stop him. Hyojong practically purrs, his tongue pressing to the vein on Hui’s underside, and opens his heavy-lidded eyes to watch his reactions. Hyuna does something with her lips and Hui covers his face with his other hand, gasping against his palm. “Hyuna— ah— ’jong— I’m gonna come if you keep that up,” he pants, arching off the bed when Hyuna runs her hand up his stomach.

“Good,” she murmurs, pressing one fingertip to the corner of Hyojong’s mouth as he takes Hui’s cock down his throat again. “That’s what I want. Dawnie, is that what you want?”

Hyojong gives her a sidelong look and slides off his cock slowly, but stays close. He wraps his fingers around him and kisses between them as he strokes up and down, and Hyuna jumps back in, putting her hand on top of Hyojong’s so their collective grip will be tighter. Hui’s body draws tight and Hyojong leans in without thinking, sucking the head of his cock into his mouth.

“Fuck,” Hui gasps, his hand yanking Hyojong’s hair, and he comes down Hyojong’s throat, Hyojong working hard to swallow. He stays even when Hui’s voice sounds completely broken, soft whimpers replacing his former moans, and only pulls off when Hui’s aftershocks have him shaking from head to toe. 

Hyuna slips up the bed quickly and kisses him, and Hyojong presses his face into Hui’s thigh to catch his breath before getting off the bed and heading through to the tiny en-suite powder room, equipped with only a sink and a mirror. He puts toothpaste on his fingertip and brushes his teeth as best he can, washes his face, and returns. They’re still kissing, but Hui breaks apart when he hears Hyojong coming in. “Where’d you go?”

“Brushed my teeth,” Hyojong says. He collapses back on the bed, pressing his face into Hyuna’s shoulder. 

“Oh. You didn’t, uh, have to, I don’t mind,” Hui mumbles.

“Hyuna hates the taste of come, I’d rather not risk getting kiss-banned,” Hyojong says. “If I had a dollar for every time she’s complained to me about how much she hates it I’d be as rich as you are.”

Hui, inexplicably, starts laughing, hoarse and quiet, and he doesn’t stop even when Hyuna pokes him in the ribs. “What’s so funny?” she asks. “Hey, what is it? Seriously, I really do hate it, he’s not kidding.”

Hui keeps laughing and shakes his head slightly. “Nothing, never mind, I’m just being silly,” he murmurs. “Inside joke with myself.”

“I have a lot of those,” Hyojong says, cuddling up to Hyuna. His fever is going down and he’s getting cold. He tries not to think about how he’s gone from despising Hui to actively wanting him to come in his mouth over the course of less than a week, primarily because he suspects he might have wanted that from Hui all along, regardless of the despising, and he’d rather not admit it to himself. What he thinks about instead is how Hyuna felt when she was all around him, so good it felt like he didn’t even deserve it. That’s home, he thinks to himself drowsily. 

“Sleepover again?” Hyuna whispers, sticking her hand out and wiggling her fingers until Hui pulls the blankets up over her body. 

“It’s still early,” Hui mumbles. Hyojong yawns into Hyuna’s shoulderblade, kicking the blankets slightly so he can have some for himself. “And we didn’t even have any cake.”

“If you want it you can go get it yourself,” Hyuna points out. Her voice is hoarse and quiet, but she doesn’t sound tired. “Are you both gonna sleep?”

“Are we allowed?” Hui jokes, but he’s definitely tired. Hyojong can picture the way he looks, his eyes unfocused, hair sticking up, mouth soft. 

“Well, duh,” Hyuna says. She kisses the nape of his neck, putting her arms around him briefly. “I’m gonna go read for a bit, then I’ll be back. Feel free to, y’know, get cozy.” 

Hyojong thinks that might be a euphemism, but he’s being pulled under fast, just as he was yesterday. Hyuna kisses Hui good night, then turns over and kisses Hyojong until he’s too sleepy to kiss back, at which point she slips out of bed and tracks down her book somewhere in the mess that her room has become. Hyojong cracks one eye open and looks at Hui’s back, so close and yet so far. The twenty inches between them where Hyuna should be is entirely unsurmountable. Hui is already breathing evenly, curled up on himself, and Hyojong considers it for a second, scooting over and fitting against him and kissing where Hyuna had just kissed. A warm body is a warm body. It wouldn’t have to be a big deal.

But Hyuna’s light footsteps go out the door and Hyojong turns over so he’s facing the other way, looking at the wall instead of at Hui. He can still hear him breathing if he really strains to listen, though. With a jolt that almost pulls his mind out of half-sleep, Hyojong remembers that Hyuna said she loved him tonight. Not in the way she’s said it before, but in the same way she knows he loves her. He buries his face in his hands to hide his huge smile, then turns to press his face into the pillow, exhaling happily. He stays quiet so as not to wake up Hui in case he’s asleep already, and he’s not awake for much longer, either, and he’s thought about it so much that he ends up dreaming about it, too, Hyuna whispering it to him over and over until it turns into nonsense syllables, and then she turns into Hui and he’s braiding Hyojong’s hair, and then Hyuna appears again and they’re Buzz Aldrin and Neil Armstrong and Hyojong is the moon.

Hyojong wakes up with the sun in his eyes. Hyuna managed to creep back into bed silently at some point, evidently, because she’s there, and it seems Hui got cold at some point because he’s wearing a shirt. His hand is on Hyuna’s back over the blankets and Hyojong rubs the sleep out of his eyes, his heart hurting as he looks at them. This routine of sex followed by early bedtimes has screwed with the sleep schedule he’s established for himself, but he’s somehow not that annoyed about it. How could he be, when both his— friends? lovers? or whatever they are— both of them are lying there curled up like kittens with him, faces smoothed out by sleep, skin warm and touchable.

Hyuna wakes up while Hyojong watches her, scrunching up her face and yawning and wiggling out from under Hui’s hand. She sees Hyojong’s already awake and moves in close to him, pressing her face into his chest and wrapping her arms around his waist. They’re both warm from sleep and Hyojong tries not to squirm away from the way her eyelashes tickle him. “You were in my dream,” he murmurs into her hair very quietly. 

“You were in mine,” she replies, yawning into his chest. “I don’t remember what it was about but you were there, and Hui.”

Hyojong hums softly, walking his fingers down her back. She sighs and rubs her face on his skin gently, stretching her legs out, and then lifts up so she can kiss his collarbone. Hyojong wants to ask her if they can stay in bed all day, but he’s sure Hui wants to get a move on, or maybe he doesn’t. Who knows. 

Hui must be a light sleeper, because their very quiet and very brief conversation wakes him up. He doesn’t even open his eyes, just reaches out for Hyuna and, finding her, scoots over to curl around her, cheek pillowed on her shoulder. Hyojong looks at him and feels a strange, irrepressible fondness, the kind he usually only feels for Hyuna. It’s early in the morning, he tells himself, and he sucked his dick last night, it’s easy to get his emotions confused. But the feeling doesn’t go away, and in fact only gets stronger when Hui makes a soft, bleary noise and starts blinking his eyes open. 

“Hello,” Hyuna whispers, staying cuddled up to Hyojong just as tightly as she was as Hui wraps around her. They’re all pressed very close together, especially considering how large the bed is. “Did you get cold at night, baby?”

“I went up to get some water and it was cold,” Hui mumbles. His voice is so hoarse and small and Hyojong’s heart feels very strange again. “And I forgot to take it off when I came back.”

“There’s extra blankets,” Hyuna says, a little muffled by Hyojong’s chest. “We can put them on the bed tonight if you want.”

Maybe Hyojong is having heart palpitations. That makes sense. Why else would he feel so weak and breathless for no discernible reason when Hui nods and presses sleepy lips to the back of Hyuna’s shoulder? The easy implication from Hyuna that they’ll be repeating this routine tonight has Hyojong tongue-tied and happy, kissing the top of Hyuna’s head. When he lifts his head from her hair, about to sneeze, he sees Hui looking at him, his eyes barely more open than they were a minute ago, expression unreadable. His face is soft, though, still sleepy, and the saltwater has bleached his hair a far lighter pink than it was when they left Orlando. Hyojong remembers the weight of him on his tongue and his taste, Hui’s fingers in his hair, then looks away.

“Okay,” Hui says, mouthing her shoulder lazily. “How long have you been up?”

“Same as you,” Hyuna replies. One of her hands has started petting Hyojong’s back, and the touches make him shiver, curling around her more and tangling their ankles together. “Dawnie woke up first.”

“Not long ago, either,” Hyojong murmurs. “Hyuna, you want breakfast?”

“I’m craving IHOP,” Hyuna says, nibbling on his collarbone. “Get me some.”

“Okay,” Hyojong says, amused. “See you in a month. I’ll have some airlifted.”

“Great,” Hyuna mumbles. “We have a deal.” She yawns into his chest, then wiggles against Hyojong and Hui both. “Lemme go, then, I’m gonna get up. Coffee.”

“Coffee,” Hui agrees. He moves back to give Hyuna room to move, and she turns over, leaning in to smush their lips together in a very brief kiss.

“You look really cute when you’re sleepy,” Hyuna breathes, nudging their noses together. “And when you just woke up. It’s not fair.”

“Hmm?” Hui says, smiling, and kisses her just lightly again. Hyojong’s heart, as stupid as it sounds even to him, flutters, and he thinks about Hui’s lips, how they had felt in the one kiss they’ve shared so far. Hyuna’s kissed him so much, and Hyojong has only kissed him once. Where’s the equality? He hides his quiet jealousy by kissing Hyuna’s shoulder, which is a safe thing to do. Hui and Hyuna are still kind of kissing, but they’re not putting a whole lot of effort in, just hanging out with their lips together as they wake up. 

“I’ll go put the coffee thing on,” Hyojong says, petting Hyuna’s hip lightly, then scoots to the edge of the bed and gets up. “Come out whenever. I can drive today.”

“Okay,” Hui says, lifting his head away from Hyuna and giving Hyojong a drowsy, bright smile. “Thank you.”

Hyojong doesn’t know what to do when people, specifically Hui, smile at him like that, so he just makes some kind of face and goes out to his room first to grab a pair of sweatpants, then the galley. He puts the kettle on one of the burners and fiddles with the French press until he thinks it looks the way it does when Hyuna makes coffee, and while he waits for it to brew and has some corn flakes, he thinks about things. Things like how he made love to Hyuna last night and how Hui was so within reach but Hyojong didn’t reach him. That keeps happening, actually, that Hyojong stops himself from touching, even from looking, even from thinking. The last point on the list is what’s hardest, since Hyojong doesn’t talk a lot but makes up for it by thinking too much, and he’s forbidden himself unequivocally from thinking about the stretch of skin between Hui’s hipbones and the way his lips move when he talks. 

Standing in the galley and finishing his cereal, Hyojong realizes that he can’t repress it any further and that it’s time to confront himself about what he wants from Hui. Is it hot to watch him fucking Hyuna? Yes, obviously, but there’s more to it. Somehow, over the course of the past week or so, Hyojong has gone past merely being used to his company and has started actually wanting it, enjoying it. He likes the slope of Hui’s nose. He doesn’t like that he’s a snob and he doesn’t like his preppy outfits; he looks much better with nothing on at all. He likes his ears, where he sometimes catches glimpses of what appear to be piercings that haven’t been used for a while. And his hands, and his mouth, and his shoulders. Hyojong actually can’t think of a part of Hui that he doesn’t like, with the exception of his personality. But he’s used to even that by now. 

So he has a crush. So what? He’ll get over it.

Hyojong goes out to turn on the engine, and frowns when he remembers the anchor is still down and he doesn’t know how to put it back up. “Hui,” he shouts. “Make the anchor go away.”

“Ha, I remembered, too,” Hui says, grinning and coming out of the cabin. He’s wearing yet another pajama shirt. How many does he have? What’s the point? “Same time as you did. Look, you just have to back up a little and then— like this.” He explains the rest, but Hyojong, distracted by his crush, doesn’t pay attention. The anchor returns to its place somewhere below the boat, that’s what matters, and Hyojong starts driving for the day as Hui returns inside to have some coffee.

Hyuna comes out soon, too, kissing Hyojong on the cheek and then all over his face as he laughs and tries to duck away so he can see where the boat’s going. He feels light, buoyant, like he can do anything. That’s how he feels around Hyuna a lot of the time, but now it’s amplified by the sunlight on the water, by the sounds of Hui clattering things around in the kitchen, by the way Hyuna is laughing.

After they’re done with breakfast, Hyuna and Hui both come out to sit by Hyojong. Hyojong mentions something about his book, and Hui runs to get it, then proceeds to spend nearly two hours reading aloud from it so Hyojong can be entertained while he drives. He does voices for all the different characters, which makes Hyuna giggle uncontrollably every time it’s a particularly distinctive voice, and even though it’s some typical Stephen King drivel about murder and intrigue, he makes it sound fun. Hyojong’s mind drifts every once in a while, thinking about how Hui did a lot of theater in college but majored in something complicated to do with politics instead, what a waste of talent that was. But for the most part he has fun, listening to him, and they switch out driving after lunch.

“One of you keep reading,” Hui suggests, taking the wheel. “I’m invested now, I have to know what happens.”

“They’re all gonna die, duh,” Hyojong says, but hands Hyuna the book when she stretches out a hand for it. She’s sunbathing today, wearing a black bikini that’ll probably make very perfect tan lines, and Hyojong tries not to stare too overtly at her tits even though he’s probably allowed to by now. 

“Sorry in advance that my voices won’t be as good as yours,” she sighs, licking her thumb to turn to the next page. But her voices end up being excellent, even when she forgets what half the characters sounded like and makes up her own options. She only reads for about half an hour, then complains about her voice being tired. Hyojong tries to take over, but his attention span is too short and Hui very graciously says the plot is dragging a little and it’s not that important to him to know what happens.

Hyuna stretches out on the bench to get more sun, her head leaned back on Hyojong’s shoulder and her legs all the way out. “Hui, let’s park soon, I want to make another stir-fry dinner and it’s hard when we’re moving around so much,” she says, putting her big sunglasses that make her look like a movie star on. 

“Works for me,” Hui nods. “This is a decent place to anchor, anyway.” He starts slowing the boat down, and Hyojong sits up straighter so Hyuna can lean on him more comfortably.

He also can’t help looking down her front, because she’s right there and he may as well, and she glances up and catches him staring. “Creep,” she smirks. “Don’t be shy, you can feel me up if you want, just don’t leave your hand in one place too long or I’ll get a weird tan.”

She doesn’t need to ask him twice, and he does a classic sleazy move, draping his arm over his shoulders so his hand will brush over one of her breasts. Hyuna snorts an amused laugh but doesn’t push him off, not even when he curls his palm around her more purposefully and gives her a squeeze.

“Yeah, yeah,” she mumbles, reaching behind herself to snatch the book from Hyojong’s lap so she can pretend to read it. “Whatever.”

“Whatever?” Hyojong says, pouting, and squeezes again, gently pressing his palm in to test the give of her soft skin. “Take it or leave it?”

“That feels nice, but I’m not dignifying it with a response,” Hyuna says reasonably, turning a page in the book. 

“Didn’t you just dignify it?” Hyojong points out. He switches to the other one, petting over it lightly before squeezing it as well.

“Nope,” Hyuna says. Her bikini is thin, just two layers of clingy black fabric as far as Hyojong can tell, so when her nipples start to bud, it’s very visible.

“Aw,” Hyojong says. “Are you cold?”

“What? No,” Hyuna says, and ends up caught completely unawares when Hyojong rolls one of her nipples between the pads of his fingers. “Easy!” she huffs, squirming and shouldering his hand away. “I’m sensitive.”

“I’ve noticed,” Hyojong says. He waits until she’s not actively going to shove him to try again, dragging his fingers over it and watching it harden further. Hyuna gasps quietly and shivers, but frowns, sitting up.

“Are you teasing me again? Didn’t get enough last night?”

“No,” Hyojong says, blinking at her. “How could I get enough of you?”

Hyuna scoffs, but Hyojong can tell she’s pleased, and when she moves to sit up more, he slips an arm around her waist to keep her from going far. And his hand meanders up, deft fingers going under her bikini top to rub his fingers over her bare skin. “Menace,” Hyuna scolds, but once again doesn’t push him away. This time, actually, she leans back into him, pushing her shoulders back to encourage him to touch more.

“You sure you’re not cold?” Hyojong murmurs, pressing the pad of his thumb to her and rubbing in small circles.

“Pretty fucking sure,” Hyuna huffs, biting her lower lip hard. 

Hyojong hums, then takes temporary pity, dropping his hand back to her waist. He holds onto her until her breath evens out again, then tightens his hold and hauls her onto his lap. She swears loudly, grabbing his arm for dear life, and twists around to frown at him when she’s settled. “What are you up to?”

“Nothing,” Hyojong says, blinking innocently. She narrows her eyes at him distrustfully but stays in his lap anyway, resting her back against his chest and picking up the book again. He can see over her shoulders that her nipples are still hard, and he bides his time, waiting until it seems like she’s almost forgotten, and when she’s totally relaxed, engrossed in the book again, he runs his hands up her body and without much prelude, pinches both nipples between his fingers.

She moans, nearly dropping the book, and elbows him in the ribs hard. “ _Asshole_ ,” she says, her voice breathy. 

“That’s me,” Hyojong murmurs, tugging on her nipples and making her squirm in his lap. “I think you kinda like it.”

“Maybe kinda,” Hyuna admits, visibly struggling with herself as to whether she should melt into the touches or make him leave her alone. “Can’t I just read my book in peace?”

“It’s my book, and I’m not stopping you,” Hyojong says. He cups her breasts in his hands and squeezes, thumbs brushing her nipples again. “Or am I distracting you?”

“No,” Hyuna says, gritting her teeth even as she presses back against him. “It’s fine.”

“I’m just keeping you warm, anyway,” Hyojong adds with a light, teasing smile, rolling his fingertips over her. “Since you’re so cold.”

“You’re the worst,” Hyuna groans. Her resolve is visibly crumbling, the hand holding the book faltering. “So, so mean to me.”

“I can be nice,” Hyojong offers. One of his hands leaves her top alone, running down to rub very lightly over the front of her bikini bottoms. “Is this what you had in mind?”

“Fuck— I fucking guess so,” Hyuna says, arching her back hard and bucking her hips eagerly into the touch.

Hyojong shrugs, dragging his hand back up to playfully pinch her nipple. “Well, too bad. I want to do this, instead.”

“Hyojong,” Hyuna snaps, a shiver running down her body. “At least kiss me.”

“Okay,” Hyojong says, relenting, and tips her chin up so he can lean in and kiss her, licking into her mouth as he resumes playing with her nipples. This time, instead of snapping at him, she shivers and melts a little more, hips squirming back again. She’s panting softly, tiny little noises between their lips whenever they come up for air, and when he tightens his fingers on her nipples she whines at the back of her throat and bites his lip.

“Tease,” she breathes, squirming harder when he tugs on her nipples again. “Touch me, come on, do you want me to beg? Because that’s not going to happen.”

“I’m waiting for you to get Hui over here,” Hyojong says, and Hyuna must have forgotten about this threesome thing they’ve got going because she goes all pink and shivery just at the mention of his name, turning around so she’s square in Hyojong’s lap again.

“Hui,” she calls to him. He’s been parking the boat all this time and is none the wiser as to what Hyojong has been doing to Hyuna just a couple feet behind him. “Come here.”

“Coming,” Hui hums, getting up from the wheel, and when he turns and sees them, Hyuna on Hyojong’s lap with her legs spread wide and her face flushed, Hyojong’s hands messing around with her bikini top, his jaw drops and he looks almost comically shocked. “Oh, fuck, okay.”

“Come here,” Hyuna insists. “Dawn is being _so_ mean.”

Hyojong shrugs, grinning very briefly at Hui over her shoulder. “She likes it.”

“That’s not the point,” Hyuna huffs. She beckons Hui over and he approaches slowly, still shocked and looking all over her like he can’t believe it. “Well? Are you helping or not? Me, that is. Don’t help him be mean.”

Hui stands in front of them for a moment, his beautiful eyes thoughtful as he decides what to do, and then he leans down to put his hands on her thighs and get on his knees in front of her.

“See, everybody wins,” Hyojong says, kissing Hyuna’s neck as Hui kisses up her thigh, his fingers hooking in her swimsuit bottoms and pulling them down. 

“No thanks to you,” Hyuna says, evidently still sore at him for teasing her so much, as she shimmies in his lap to get her bottoms off. Hui slips them off the rest of the way and resumes kissing her, getting closer and closer to where she wants him.

“You didn’t like it even a little?” Hyojong asks, lips still on her neck, and rolls her nipples between his fingers. She squirms, spreading her legs as wide as she can in anticipation of Hui. “No? I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you. Anything you want, you know I’ll give you anything you want. Just name it.”

“Oh, you little asshole, you know I love it,” Hyuna mumbles, her eyes starting to slip closed. “I’m just playing with you.”

“I know,” Hyojong says, amused, and sucks her earlobe into his mouth. She makes a soft, high sound, and that’s evidently when Hui chooses to close the distance between him and her, because that sound quickly glissandos up into a much higher, much needier moan. Her thighs tremble and Hyojong moves a hand to grasp one, keeping her legs spread. “I guess I was mean. I teased you, it was selfish. But it all turned out okay. Love you in my lap. Sitting pretty. I’m gonna be thinking about you riding me until the day I die and even after, when I get to the pearly gates I’ll be telling Saint Peter about how tight you are. At least you’re not wearing a skirt again today. If you did I’d have started after breakfast and would have been teasing you all day just to see if I could make you drip down your thighs.”

“Dawn,” Hyuna whispers, her whole body trembling. Hyojong can see her eyelashes and not much else, but he can see her eyes are open wide, stunned. Hyojong has never talked like this, not to anyone else and definitely not to her, and he’s not sure about it but it’s clearly working on her; she’s rocking forward on Hui’s mouth and gasping on each breath.

“And then I’d lick you clean,” Hyojong goes on. He bites her neck, sucking briefly, then moves up to her ear again, talking low. “You taste so good. Doesn’t she taste good, Hui?”

Hui hums in assent from between her legs and Hyuna moans, her head falling back against Hyojong’s shoulder. And Hyojong moves his hand from Hyuna’s thigh to Hui’s hair in a mostly unconscious gesture, grabbing a handful like Hui had done to him last night. He’s not holding tightly enough to press him in so he won’t be able to breathe, but just tightly enough to be noticeable. He runs his fingers through briefly to let Hui know he’s there, then grabs on again.

“So good,” Hyojong murmurs, licking Hyuna’s neck just under her ear and tugging at her nipple with his other hand. “Look so good, too. I could stare at your pussy all day then have it for dinner. Hell, breakfast, too. Whenever you want me. Sweetest thing in the world. And don’t even get me started on what being inside you is like. Right, Hui?”

He can feel Hui nod and something about the way he moves makes Hyuna cry out quietly, then go back to nearly hyperventilating.

“Right,” Hyojong says, a lazy smile on his face. He doesn’t let up with his hand or his mouth, sucking a red mark into her neck in a visible place, right on the side, so they can all look at it later and remember. “It’s changing my life, sweetheart, every time I think about it I go a little crazy. Love your pussy, love being inside you, I’d be inside you all the time if you let me. Keeping you full all day. And if I get tired, Hui can just take over. That’s what we’re good for, right? That’s why you wanted this, so we could keep you busy as long as you can handle it. Forget the trip, forget driving, what you want is for us to be filling you up from morning to night, until you get enough.”

Under Hyojong’s hand, Hui starts rolling his head forward to meet Hyuna’s movements, licking her out harder. Her breaths are very fast and very quiet, and she’s hanging on every word from Hyojong, her nipples so hard and so sensitive she shakes all over when he tugs at them. Hyojong is in heaven, and he’s just saying whatever shit comes into his mind, wanting to keep her like this as long as he can.

“You can get me back for it however you want,” he offers. “Tie me up, make me beg, not let me come. But I’m gonna be thinking about this, how hot you get when I play with you, so hot for me I can smell it on the air. Your gorgeous body, your pretty pussy, all ours. I used to be so good, such a good boy, never even thought about your tits or how you looked when you were getting fucked by whoever I could hear fucking you because you were being loud and putting on a show for me, and now all I can think about is tearing you out of your clothes and letting you grind on me until you’re soaking, gorgeous, angel, love of my life, sweetest thing in the Caribbean is that thing between your legs, wanna drink you, wanna get a tattoo of that face you make when Hui puts his fingers in you, wanna make you come until you don’t remember what it’s like to not be coming, set your moaning as my ringtone, ruin every single pair of your panties, pull an all-nighter with you on my cock then switch to Hui in the morning so you can get your fill, I can’t keep my hands off you, wanna mess around with you on the floor or in the bath or on the beach or in the kitchen or right out here, sweetheart, just us and the sun and the water so you can be as loud as you want and it’s nobody’s business but ours if you’re riding my face when you come or if Hui’s giving it to you until you’re crying or if it’s both of us however you can fit us, I love you, I love you—”

Hyuna slaps a hand over her mouth but her scream is audible anyway as she comes, writhing in Hyojong’s lap and against Hui’s face, and she comes for a long time, every part of her moving as it overtakes her. When she’s finally done she’s still whimpering, hips rolling in small motions against Hui, and she’s quivering, too, until after a while of just shaking and breathing she moves her hand down to link with Hyojong’s on Hui’s head and pull him away from her gently.

Hyojong kisses Hyuna’s shoulder lightly and lets go of Hui’s hair after putting in the minimum effort to smooth it down. They’re both being uncommonly quiet and he only just notices, lifting his head again to look at Hyuna, then Hui. Hyuna’s lips are bitten scarlet and her eyes are huge, and Hui is staring, too, his mouth red and wet to match. Hyojong raises an eyebrow, getting self-conscious, and clears his throat. “What?”

“What was that?” Hyuna breathes. “ _Who_ was that?”

“I thought you were _shy_ ,” Hui agrees, just as breathless and awed as Hyuna is. “What the fuck?”

“Where did that come from?” Hyuna asks, lifting a hand to cup Hyojong’s jaw lightly. “Did you mean all of it?”

Now Hyojong really is getting shy, and he shrugs, looking away. “Yeah. I mean, I guess so, yeah. Maybe not about the ringtone, but the rest—”

“The ringtone!” Hyuna says, her voice verging on hysterical, and she covers her face with her hands for a second. “Dawnie, holy shit. First of all, I’ve never heard you talk that much— oh, my God, wait, Hui, come here.”

“You forgot, huh?” Hui says mildly, but he’s smiling anyway, moving up to kiss the corner of her mouth. “I kind of did, too. I can do better and I will, just not when Hyojong is doing… that.”

“Let’s go to bed,” Hyojong says, red to the tips of his ears and wishing he’d never opened his mouth.

Hyuna nods, then pushes Hui back gently and shivers as she closes her legs again. She came so hard she can still feel it, Hyojong realizes, and then he also realizes that she was grinding back on his dick the whole time and that’s why his body is tense and aching. Hui offers her a hand to help her up, which she takes, and she grabs Hyojong’s hand as well to tug him along with them. Her eyes are big and dreamy when she looks at Hyojong, which makes him feel a little less shy. These are good reactions, he knows, but the more he thinks about the stream of consciousness he let bubble up to the surface the more full of regrets he becomes. Why did he say all that? Where did it come from? Hyuna kisses him in the doorway, though, and he forgets about it rapidly as she leads them both to lie down.

They fall into bed in a tangle of sweaty limbs, in nearly the exact same position as they keep falling asleep in; Hyojong is behind Hyuna, Hui on the other side facing her. Hyuna tells them up front that she’s not in any condition to do any tricks, but she’ll make it worth their while anyway. She puts her hand around Hui’s cock while Hyojong kisses her neck to keep himself busy. And then he feels a touch, hesitant at first but then strong, like Hui always is, soft fingers sliding upto the head of his dick and then curling firmly around him to stroke. 

Hyojong meets Hui’s eyes over Hyuna’s shoulder, and Hui looks dazed like he always does when they’ve gone this far, stroking Hyojong faster. Hyojong buries his face in Hyuna’s neck and kisses her there, considers giving her another hickey, but before he can get around to it Hui twists his wrist perfectly and Hyojong comes without even noticing he’d been close, his hand pulling at the sheets and his harsh breaths against Hyuna’s shoulder. And Hui follows soon, moaning so softly into Hyuna’s mouth that it sounds almost too good for Hyojong to be allowed to hear it.

Of course, as is by now their custom, they fall asleep. “It’s just a nap,” Hyuna insists, taking up as much of the bed as she can without Hui and Hyojong complaining. 

“It’s too early to sleep,” Hui agrees, but he sounds barely awake, all his words blurring together. 

Hyojong isn’t opposed to a nap, but even if he were, he wouldn’t have time to voice his oppositions before he’s falling asleep. Nap dreams are always crazy, and Hyojong’s regular dreams are always crazy as it is, so he ends up dreaming about an apocalypse involving everyone on the planet except him being turned into fortune cookies. For some reason, he’s trying to get to the Empire State Building, but the pilot of his plane is a fortune cookie too, and it doesn’t go well. He wakes up bleary and confused and with someone who is decidedly not Hyuna cuddled up to him, which only adds to the confusion. He blinks down at Hui, fast asleep with his cheek on Hyojong’s outstretched arm, and lifts his head to glance back at Hyuna, who is now behind him and similarly fast asleep. They must have rolled over a lot in their sleep to end up like this. 

Hyojong squints at the dim light coming through the cabin window and tries to figure out how long they’ve been out for. All the sheets are still on the bed, so it can’t have been that long since Hyuna hasn’t had time to kick them off. Hyojong looks back down at Hui and thinks about how the hell they got there, and where they’re going to go from here.

Hui sighs quietly in his sleep, his eyes moving under his eyelids. Hyojong’s heart hurts. He knows there’s something Hui’s not telling them, that there’s something more to him than the silver spoon self-centered rich kid he presents himself as. It’s easy to forget about all of that, though, everything that makes Hyojong worry, when Hui’s lips purse and his breath is coming out of him soft and steady and brushing on Hyojong’s skin. Hyojong has never seen him this close before and he can’t get his fill of staring, taking in the faint scar across his nose, his symmetrical eyebrows, the soft line of his jaw, his perfect skin. Hyojong thought he was handsome the night they met but now he’s so handsome Hyojong can barely stand it. It’s unfair, indecent, for one person to look this good, and when Hui’s eyes slowly open and meet Hyojong’s, it’s all Hyojong can do to hold back a wheeze.

Hui blinks a few times just as slowly, like he can’t quite believe what he’s seeing, but then he gets this tiny smile on his face and closes his eyes again, turning his head so his nose presses against Hyojong’s skin affectionately. Hyojong wants to touch his hair again, to pull him closer, and all at once it hits him that it was Hui’s beautiful cool hand touching him last night, so tenderly that the memory of it makes Hyojong breathless. That realization is so powerful he can’t move for a moment, frozen and letting it wash over him, but then he does, lifting his other hand and gently touching Hui’s forehead, fingers pushing into his hair.

Hui opens his eyes again and looks at him but doesn’t stop him, so Hyojong continues. He brushes his hand through his hair and to the back of his head, his thumb resting behind his ear. Hui is letting him do whatever he wants, his sleepy eyes not looking away from Hyojong, and even though Hyojong has been horrible and mean and unfair, Hui trusts him, and his trust and affection are radiating out from him and making Hyojong warm. Hyojong doesn’t deserve it. He doesn’t deserve anything about the way Hui is looking at him and lying still while Hyojong thumbs his earlobe and while Hyuna sleeps behind them, and the only thing left for him to do is lean down and kiss him.

Hui kisses back like he’s been waiting for this, and Hyojong realizes with another jolt that he has. Hyojong wants so badly to hate him but he can’t muster up any negative emotion when Hui’s lips are pressed to his own, his mouth and skin warm from sleep. Hyojong wants to crawl inside his chest and curl up there and never leave. How did this happen? Why has Hui made Hyojong obsessed with him, hanging on every word, ready to do anything if it’ll get Hui’s attention on him? Worst of all, it’s all happened without Hyojong noticing, and now that he’s noticing it it’s almost too much.

But he stops thinking about that after long. His other arm, the one Hui was sleeping on, curls up to draw Hui in closer to him, since he doesn’t want Hui to get cold and he wants to kiss him deeper. Hui goes easily, no space at all left between their bodies, and all their kisses are light so far, just brief, exploratory, uncertain presses of lips. And Hui puts an arm around Hyojong as well, his palm pressing against the stag on Hyojong’s back. 

Hyojong can’t deal with this, can’t deal with how softly Hui is kissing him, each kiss an act of forgiveness for everything that’s happened, so he scratches lightly at the back of Hui’s head and nips him. Hui takes the hint and lets Hyojong deepen the kiss, only sighing quietly when Hyojong sucks on his lower lip. Hyojong tilts his head to adjust the angle and kiss him more deeply, and once again the world spins around him when he tastes Hui’s tongue. 

It’s just like he wanted. He’s losing track of whose lips are where, whose tongue is whose. Hui is everywhere, taking up all his senses, and Hyojong has wanted to touch him for so long and now he finally is. Like with Hyuna, he can’t stop touching, his hand running over his back, his hips, the nape of his neck. Hui’s ticklish, that much is obvious, he’s shivering and tense, so Hyojong stops, just resting his hand on the small of his back, drawing him in closer and kissing him so deep. Hui calms again, and he melts when Hyojong bites his lip and tugs back, another one of those impossibly soft moans of his curling in the air between their mouths. Hyojong does it again, then kisses it better, licking and sucking at the spot he’d bitten until Hui huffs very quietly from impatience and kisses him fully, his hand moving up to curl in Hyojong’s hair and keep him from pulling away.

And when Hui makes another soft, low sound, his tongue licking against Hyojong’s teeth before slipping into his mouth, he presses against him more and Hyojong feels that they’re both hard, have probably been for some time. Hyojong doesn’t break stride kissing him, but he pulls him in, shifting so one of his legs is between Hui’s and they both have some pressure to take the edge off. Hui figures out what Hyojong is up to and moans so quietly Hyojong barely hears it, shifting up to make the fit more snug. Hyojong can’t hold back a sound at that, either, and his eyes open just slightly so he can watch Hui’s reactions. As expected, he looks gorgeous, a flush stealing over his cheeks, and Hyojong wants to see more so he does what he’s been wanting to do for too long; he moves his hand from Hui’s back, taking his time trailing over his skin, and grasps his cock loosely, his thumb rubbing just under the head.

Hui, oversensitive, jolts at the first touch, his breath hitching in his throat as he kisses Hyojong again. He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t need to, his whole body arching towards him and asking for more. Hyojong gives him more, because how could he not? He doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to deny Hui anything again. His hand tightens and his strokes get purposeful, twisting the way Hui had done on him earlier, wanting to make him feel good, so good he forgets everything he’s worrying about. Hui’s mouth is slack against Hyojong’s as he gets lost in the feeling, breaths coming hot and shallow, and his hand moves between them as well, wrapping around Hyojong and stroking him with a matching pace.

Hyojong is dizzy, losing it, he wants Hui too badly, and he understands even more now why Hyuna looks at him with dreamy eyes whenever he’s touching her. Hui’s hand is swift and he somehow knows exactly how Hyojong likes to be touched, making Hyojong feel weak through his whole body as he rocks his hips into his hold. They have to break the kiss to breathe, but neither of them pulls away, and finally Hui pushes Hyojong’s wrist away so he can take them both in one hand. 

The friction is too good, and Hyojong’s eyes are open but he can’t see. All he knows is Hui’s mouth and his hand and his beautiful lean body rubbing against Hyojong’s. He kisses him again even though he can’t catch his breath, messy with his tongue, and Hui’s breath goes all high and fast when Hyojong bites at his lower lip again.

Hyojong wants to kiss all over him, give him love bites on his neck and on his hips, but he doesn’t want to— he can’t, wouldn’t if you paid him— stop kissing his sweet mouth, even though the kiss is so sloppy they’re just gasping on each other and are barely kissing at all. Hui’s breath stops and Hyojong kisses him hard so he’ll be quiet when he comes, and it sort of works but Hyojong can still hear his throat working with his raw, shaky sounds. The sight of him, the feeling of him coming, has Hyojong spilling over Hui’s hand within seconds after that, and Hui kisses him and kisses him and kisses him until Hyojong’s lips are buzzing to match the ringing in his ears.

Hui fumbles around a little so he can wipe them clean with one of the sheets, and then they end up with their foreheads pressed together and their eyes half-open. Hui is smiling so wide that it makes Hyojong smile, too, big and lazy and bright. He leans in and kisses him again and Hui kisses him back and he’s still smiling so their teeth knock together briefly and they have to readjust, both holding back laughter, then try again.

“That’s beautiful,” Hyuna murmurs, and Hyojong nearly jumps out of his own skin, sitting up so fast his head spins to look back at her. She’s probably been watching the whole time, based on that smug and yet somehow still adoring smile on her face. “Isn’t friendship a wonderful thing?”

Hyojong, bright red, drops his head down and hides in Hui’s shoulder. Hui is still for a moment, then wraps completely around Hyojong, his grip tight and protective as he smiles into the top of Hyojong’s head. “How long have you been up?” Hui asks her.

“Long enough,” Hyuna says. Hyojong laughs weakly into Hui’s shoulder, and Hui soothes him with a hand between his shoulderblades. “Wake me up next time, I wanna see.”

“Okay,” Hui says, sounding a little sheepish. Hyojong wants to kiss his neck and decides to give in to that instinct, pressing his lips to where his pulse is jumping under his skin. “Oh. Hi.”

“Hello,” Hyojong mumbles, continuing to kiss his neck. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah,” Hui says. His fingers start brushing very softly over Hyojong’s spine and the nape of his neck. “Hyuna, you watching this?”

“Oh, whatever,” Hyuna laughs, the sheets moving around as she sits up. “Who initiated? I had a betting pool going with myself. Right now I’m set to win about fifty bucks. It was Hui, right?”

“No,” Hyojong says, extremely satisfied with himself, and nuzzles his nose under Hui’s jaw. “It was me.”

“Really? A surprising underdog emerges and wins the race despite twelve-to-one odds,” Hyuna muses. “Now I owe myself fifty whole dollars.”

“That’s what you get for gambling,” Hui sighs. He scratches Hyojong’s nape lightly and Hyojong shivers involuntarily, making a noise in protest. Hui soothes him again, his hands so wonderful and soft, and Hyojong can’t help melting like he does when Hyuna kisses him just right. He mouths at his neck idly, then drops his head back down to Hui’s shoulder. 

It’s amazing, giving in. And not difficult at all like Hyojong expected. He’s wanted it for so long and now he can have it. Nobody even knew about his internal crises, so he doesn’t have to be embarrassed in front of anyone. He can just have his head on Hui’s shoulder and his arm around his waist and it doesn’t have to be a grand, complicated affair.

“What time is it?” Hyuna asks, reaching out to lightly pet Hyojong’s arm.

“Probably around dinner,” Hui says and shrugs, but carefully so as not to dislodge Hyojong. “You want me to make something?”

“Maybe later,” Hyuna hums. “Tomorrow, we should go on the mainland and have a real dinner.”

Hui makes an interested noise. “That’s a good idea. I think we’ll be passing by some big towns.”

“I haven’t anything to wear,” Hyojong mumbles into his neck. “I left all my evening gowns back home.”

“You can borrow one of mine,” Hui says, amused. “I do actually have some semi-formal outfits with me, I definitely overpacked. So if you want, like, a sport coat—”

“Stop talking,” Hyojong says, kissing his neck again. Hui laughs and stops talking as requested, his arms still looped loosely around Hyojong. “I want cake for dinner.”

“You’ll have to ask Hyuna about that one,” Hui murmurs. “It’s technically her cake.”

“It’s also definitely stale,” Hyuna sighs. “I had some this morning. You can risk it if you want, but otherwise we can all cook something else.”

“That takes effort,” Hyojong says, rolling away from Hui’s side to lie on his back. “But fine.”

“Did you get come on my sheets?” Hyuna exclaims, then leans over to poke Hui harshly in the side. “Gross!”

“What else was I supposed to do with it?” Hui laughs, trying to squirm away from her poking hand, but she’s relentless. “Don’t— I’m sorry! I’ll change them myself! Stop poking me!”

Hyuna doesn’t stop, moving on top of Hyojong so she can reach better, and Hyojong pokes her, too, which makes her shriek and fall over onto Hui. Then all bets are off, and by the time they’re done, the bed is pretty much stripped of sheets, Hyojong has been pushed onto the floor, and Hyuna is laughing so hard there’s a tear rolling down her cheek. She leans over the edge of the bed to give Hyojong a kiss, and Hui takes Hyojong’s hand to help him back up, and Hyojong doesn’t even know what to do with all this stupid, endless happiness he’s feeling so he just closes his eyes, buries his face in a pillow, and tries to stop smiling before his face gets sore.

The evening is a happy blur of cooking and altogether too much kissing. Hui and Hyojong are a little shy about straight-up making out, but when Hyuna’s glanced away for a second, Hyojong will steal the occasional kiss. He knows that they’re still going to have their issues, and he doesn’t necessarily want to sit and listen to Hui’s recollections about how wonderful Paris is in the fall or whatever rich kids talk about, but this is still so good, so much better than anything he’d been expecting.

The next day Hui steers the boat closer to shore than they’ve been for a while, and Hyuna stands on the top deck and narrates what she’s seeing, whether there’s any signs of life. Finally she spots a port, then a city, and Hui gets them to the dock and leaves the rest to Hyojong, who barters with the attendant until he gets them two hours of parking. Hyuna runs downstairs and changes into a dress, floral and swirly, ending just below her knees, and Hui dresses up somewhat, too, putting a blazer over his t-shirt. Hyojong doesn’t bother. They walk out into the city with Hyuna in the middle and Hui and Hyojong on either side, her arm through Hui’s, her other hand holding Hyojong’s. She looks beautiful, her hair in loose waves all down her back, and Hyojong comments that he can give it a color touch-up whenever she wants, which Hyuna pretends to take offense at since he’s implying it doesn’t look good anymore. This bickering lasts them until they find a restaurant, where they get a corner table outside and play a complicated game of three-way footsie for a while.

They’ve all forgotten what it’s like to eat somewhere other than on the boat, so their table manners are horrible; they all keep cackling and daring each other to steal the teaspoons that came with their drinks and eating all the breadsticks. The waiters all hate them and are very obvious about it, which doesn’t even change when Hui graciously pays the bill and leaves a good tip.

But nothing can ruin the mood. The afternoon feels endless even though the two hours of parking are up and Hui has to drive them back out onto the water, anchoring close enough that they can see the lights of the town. Hyuna teases Hui so much about how handsome he looks in his blazer that he ends up taking it off, but that doesn’t make him any less handsome, which she makes sure he knows. 

Soon, all the good food and talking has worn them out, so they sit together on the upper deck. Hui’s in the middle, Hyojong on his right, Hyuna on his left. Hyuna suggests they have a contest to see who knows the most stars, which Hui immediately complains is rigged because Hyojong probably had to take a whole class on it. Hyojong neither confirms nor denies, but wins the contest anyway.

“I think it’s about time,” Hyuna says, leaning her head on Hui’s shoulder when she’s done accusing Hyojong of making up names for stars since they’d never know the difference, “that you two told me exactly what happened that time at the club.”

Hui groans, and Hyojong shrugs, sitting up. “It’s really not that funny,” he says for Hui’s sake. “Well, maybe a little, but it’s not worth telling.”

“I said a bunch of shit, and he kicked me out,” Hui mumbles. 

“What kind of shit?” Hyuna asks with interest. “He kicks people out a lot but he doesn’t hit them all, it must have been really bad.”

“No, it wasn’t that bad, I was just taunting him,” Hui says, making a face. “Saying he wouldn’t do it, that sort of thing. So he did it, obviously.”

“Just doing my job,” Hyojong says. “I felt bad, if it’s any consolation.”

“Mm, my face feels very retroactively consoled.”

Hyuna makes a soft cooing noise and reaches up to brush her fingers over Hui’s cheek. He smiles, but so quickly that it doesn’t have time to reach his eyes. 

“Don’t take it personal,” Hyojong says, very gently knocking his shoulder against Hui’s since he’s allowed to do that now. He doesn’t mention anything about the keys, because that seems private. Whatever’s going on in Hui’s life that means he needed to steal a car, he hasn’t told Hyuna, so Hyojong isn’t going to snitch. “And anyway, isn’t getting extravagantly smashed and yelling at security and getting kicked out all a typical day in the life of a rich asshole such as yourself?”

“I’m not,” Hui says. His voice sounds very, very strange, and a new kind of smile is plastered on.

Hyojong raises his eyebrows. “You’re not an asshole?”

“I’m not rich,” Hui says. It might be a trick of the light, but his lower lip trembles, and he looks down at his hands, which are on his knees. 

Hyojong doesn’t get it. Is he joking? “You have a yacht,” he points out, but not unkindly. 

“I’m selling it,” Hui says. On his other side, Hyuna is dead silent. “That’s why I’m going to Brazil. I found a buyer.”

“I still don’t get it,” Hyojong says, choosing his words more carefully now. “What about your parents, can’t they bail you out, isn’t that what they’re for?”

Hui’s lip trembles again, much more noticeably, and he shakes his head. “It’s all gone,” he says, sounding hollow. “Everything, all of it. I haven’t talked to my dad in more than a year and my mom only calls to ask for money. The house is gone. The cars are gone. There’s nothing left but the boat.”

It sinks in slowly, but Hyojong starts to understand. Hui’s cageyness about his family, about Brazil, the way he laughs whenever anyone mentions money — this is what he’s been hiding, this is the “more” that he always tells Hyojong he doesn’t know about. This is it.

“What happened?” Hyuna whispers. Hyojong glances over to her and sees that her eyes are big and upset as she clings to Hui’s arm. “Hui, what happened?”

“It started right after I graduated,” Hui says, not looking at either of them. “We were getting a lot of letters from lawyers, from banks. My mom and I had no idea why and my dad wouldn’t say. See, he never told us he was buying up land he couldn’t afford and taking out too many loans to pay back, and then there was the hotels and the ‘business trips’ and the designer clothes and the 20-year-old pregnant girlfriend in Reno and then he got fired and didn’t tell us— so— so we sold the house in Orlando, auctioned off my mom’s art collection, did what we could to keep our heads above the water but it wasn’t enough, he wouldn’t stop, I can’t even imagine where all that money was going but it sure as fuck was going, and finally he snapped and left. Off to Reno, I think, to start a new life without us. My mom, um, didn’t take it very well, and I couldn’t live with her anymore, so I moved out. I’ve been crashing with a friend in Manhattan for the past year, I got a job at a music store but I barely make rent, and then my mom said I should sell the boat so she can have enough money to get her own place and I— and I— I’m the only one that can, it’s legally mine, and her health’s not so good anymore so she can’t sail it down, obviously.” He stops talking to take a deep, rattling breath, one of his hands coming up to press at his eyes. 

Hyojong knew he should have expected this, but it’s still unimaginable. Were it anyone else, he wouldn’t care much about this Chekhovian downfall of a rich family, but this is Hui, and he’s visibly trying not to cry, and it’s awful.

“The boat’s worth a lot,” Hui continues after he’s caught his breath. “That’ll keep her steady for a while. But after that I don’t know what we’re going to do.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Hyuna breathes, also sounding like she’s on the verge of tears. “You could have written to me earlier, I could have helped—”

Hui shakes his head quickly. “No. I can handle it. It’s… I know what it must sound like to you,” he says, and Hyojong realizes that he’s talking to him. “Poor little rich boy, can’t afford any more fancy toys. But it’s not about that, it’s not about the money. I had a family, I had a life, and now it’s—”

“Gone,” Hyuna completes. She leans her head on Hui’s shoulder, cuddling in as close to him as she can. “When were you going to tell us? _Were_ you going to tell us?”

Hui sniffs, clearing his throat a few times. “I don’t know. I wasn’t— I wasn’t planning on it, but I also wasn’t expecting… I don’t know.”

“What were you going to do with the car?” Hyojong asks.

“Live in it,” Hui says. He wipes his eyes again but it doesn’t help. “Roadtrip around until I died. Leave it to my mom when that was done.” Hyuna doesn’t ask what car, and she’s probably not even listening anymore, too caught up thinking about Hui’s situation. “My dad’s actually considered a fugitive,” he goes on. “Since he didn’t pay anything off, he’s a wanted man. But I know where he is. You think I might get a nice monetary reward for turning him in?”

“Hui,” Hyuna murmurs, and Hui laughs, but the laugh goes out almost immediately and he covers his face with his hands and shudders, taking in ragged gasps of air. 

“We’ll think of something,” Hyojong says quietly. He moves closer to Hui, putting a hand on his arm. “You hear me? We’ll think of something.”

“I’ve thought of everything and there’s nothing left,” Hui says. He sounds like he’s crying, and Hyojong is glad he can’t see his face or there would be hell to pay, he’d swim to Reno and take care of business himself. “There’s nothing I can do but this. That’s the only way to help anyone but it still won’t help because she’ll just spend it and then we’ll be back to how it’s been and I can’t— I can’t—”

“We’ll think of something,” Hyojong repeats. Hui makes an absolutely miserable, broken sound and turns to the side, leaning into Hyojong, and Hyojong puts his arms around him, Hyuna doing the same from her end.

They sit there for a long, long time, not saying anything, and then Hui, who has been very quietly crying the whole time, pulls back and wipes his face. 

“I’m going to bed,” he says hoarsely. “I’m sorry for… everything, I guess.”

“Hui, don’t,” Hyuna says, taking his hand and squeezing it tightly. She’s been crying, too, and she wraps her arms tightly around Hui, pulling him in. He leans against her completely, and she puts her hand on his head, covering one of his ears, and keeps it there. “This always used to make you feel better when you cried,” she murmurs. “You liked being able to hear the ocean in my hand, remember?”

Hui nods, then starts crying again, even more quietly than before. She keeps her hand over his ear and puts her chin on top of his head to curl around him more thoroughly, enveloping him, until eventually, he stops crying, just breathing wetly against her shoulder.

Hyojong doesn’t want to intrude on this moment, and he needs some time to think anyway. He starts getting up, but Hui’s hand moves and takes hold of his shirt. “Don’t go,” Hui says, voice soft. “Please— I’m sorry— don’t go.”

Hyojong nods and sits back down, and after some brief hesitation, leans in, curling around Hui from the back to keep him warm. He kisses the back of his shoulder, and Hui shivers but doesn’t say anything.

When it really is too breezy and cold to stay outside, they all get up and, without even talking about it, all head towards the master bedroom together, Hui still holding onto Hyuna’s arm, Hyojong following close behind. 

“It’s really not that bad,” Hui says when they're all in bed. “I can handle it. I’m just— I’ve never talked about it before. No one even really knows. So that’s why I… yeah.”

“It’s okay,” Hyuna whispers, kissing Hui’s forehead. “It’s okay.” She hugs him, and for a second they look just like children again, hugging each other and whispering about something secret, despite being twenty years older and a lot more confused. 

Hyojong turns off the lamp and when he turns back over, Hui is looking at him. “You probably think I’m so stupid,” he says, his voice faltering somewhat.

Hyojong shakes his head. “No,” he replies, and leaves it at that. 

Hui nods, his lower lip trembling briefly, and Hyojong leans in to kiss him. Hui makes a small noise and kisses him back, then breaks the kiss to say, “Just— if you’re going to make fun of me, do it behind my back.”

“I’m not going to make fun of you,” Hyojong says. He kisses him again. “And I’m not going to pity you. I’m going to help. I just don’t know how yet.”

Hui shakes his head, but kisses Hyojong, sighing. “There’s nothing you can do,” he murmurs. “Don’t bother.”

“Shh,” Hyojong says. “I’m the resident pessimist here. If you’re contending for the job you’ll have to put in an official application.”

Hui laughs a little wetly, raising his eyebrows. “What happens to my application?”

“It gets evaluated by a committee,” Hyojong says, gesturing to himself and Hyuna, “but they’re very strict. So I’m afraid you don’t stand a chance.”

“Oh, well,” Hui says. He kisses him again, then turns over to cuddle up to Hyuna, who winds her arms around him tightly. He says something very quietly that Hyojong can’t hear, and Hyuna smiles, kissing the top of his head again.

“We’ll work it out tomorrow,” Hyuna says. “You just go to sleep, baby. And have sweet dreams, okay? Dawn can give you lucid dreaming tips.”

“No, I can’t,” Hyojong says, moving up to press somewhat shyly against Hui’s back, wanting to be close to them both. “It took me centuries to get any results.”

“That’s okay,” Hui says, a smile in his voice. “I’ll settle for regular dreams. Last night I dreamt Hyuna ran away with the circus.”

“Now there’s an idea,” Hyuna says. “Are you comfy sleeping in the middle?”

Hui thinks about it for a second, then nods, and Hyuna pulls the blankets up over them. “Thank you both,” he says, sounding small.

Hyuna coos, tightening her arms around him, and Hyojong moves in closer. “Hush,” Hyuna murmurs. “We haven’t done anything. But we will, okay? You’re not alone anymore.”

Hui doesn’t say anything else, and after a few minutes, Hyojong hears his breath starting to even out as he falls asleep. Hyuna’s out pretty soon, too, and Hyojong didn’t think he was tired but he ends up so lulled by their soft sleep sounds and how warm the bed is that he’s falling asleep before he knows it. 

He ends up waking up first, and Hyuna and Hui are still clinging each other. Hui looks very young and very sad even in sleep, and Hyuna, as always, is pouting her lips out and frowning. Hyojong watches them for a moment, feeling a strange soup of emotions, then gets out of bed and goes to the kitchen to make some breakfast. It’s an overcast day, the first one they’ve had in a while, and he watches some seagulls chasing each other around while he waits for the kettle to boil. 

He makes coffee for Hui and Hyuna and some toaster waffles for himself, idly noting that they should probably get some more groceries soon. He also decides to see what this coffee fuss is all about and makes himself a small cup, but after one sip he remembers why he hates it and sets the cup aside, scowling. Just then, a beautifully sleep-rumpled Hui comes in, and he smiles when he sees Hyojong’s face. “First thing in the morning, already mad about something?”

“I had some coffee,” Hyojong explains, still scowling. 

“Well, why would you do that?” Hui says, coming over to pick up his cup and take a sip. He smiles at Hyojong again over the rim, and Hyojong can’t help scooting along the counter to be closer to him when he looks so touchable, and when he was so sad last night and Hyojong couldn’t do anything about it. “It’s fine. You could have put more sugar in, then it’d be even better.”

“You want sugar? Here’s some,” Hyojong says, then boldly leans in for a kiss. 

“My God, you sound just like Hyuna,” Hui grins, kissing him back. Hyojong doesn’t deepen the kiss, though, as he doesn’t want Hui to spill the coffee, and pulls away. But Hui leans after him, chasing his lips for another kiss, so Hyojong obliges and also takes the cup out of his hands so it’s out of harm’s way. 

Hui steps closer and pushes his hand back through Hyojong’s hair, which makes Hyojong remember the way Hui had touched him, just like that, a few nights ago. His heart clenches, but he’s not awake enough for emotions, so he just kisses him again to put it out of his mind. His hands go to Hui’s narrow waist and he draws him in and lets the kiss get deep, even though they both taste like morning and coffee — two of Hyojong’s least favorite things. He could get used to these kinds of mornings, though. Maybe.

“You’re such an enigma,” Hui breathes into his mouth. “You’re like an alien. Where did you come from?”

“Small town,” Hyojong mumbles, taking hold of Hui’s hair and tilting his head back for him so he can kiss his neck. “Homeschooled.”

“Not Neptune?” Hui says, his pulse jumping under Hyojong’s mouth, and Hyojong grins, nipping him lightly and then crowding him against the counter.

“Nah. I always thought of it as Pluto.” 

“That works, too,” Hui murmurs, his hand sliding over Hyojong’s bare shoulders. “You ever get lonely up there?”

“Would you?” Hyojong points out, then comes up to kiss his mouth. “Anyway, you’re one to talk, you hatched from a diamond-crusted egg like I said.” That’s a stupid thing to remind him of, because then he immediately remembers there is no longer a Lee family fortune for Hui to inherit and the diamonds are all gone, but Hui doesn’t seem upset, smiling and shaking his head.

“Grown hydroponically. One of my nannies told me that instead of trying to give me the sex talk, can you believe that?”

Hyojong kisses him, making a low, amused noise. “Will you shut the fuck up about your nannies?”

“Habit,” Hui says, laughing. “Sorry.”

“I bet talking about your _nannies_ goes over great at parties. Works great on girls.”

“Even better on boys, see? It worked on you,” Hui says, which makes Hyojong pull back, pretending to be offended.

“Is that all I am to you? Someone to try out nanny-related stories on?” he accuses, but lets Hui tug him in for another kiss anyway, his hands finding their place back on his hips.

“For now,” Hui murmurs between kisses. “Soon I’ll upgrade you to the next tier. Therapist-related stories.”

“Oh, damn,” Hyojong says. “I’m honored.” 

“Mm. It’s an honor for sure.” Hui starts smiling against his lips, which makes Hyojong smile, too, and he eases his grip on him so he’s not pressed quite as snugly against the kitchen counter and can sway closer to Hyojong of his own accord.

“Pinch me, I’m still dreaming,” Hyuna declares, and Hui and Hyojong jump apart from each other like kids whose time in the broom closet during seven minutes in heaven has just ended. She’s grinning and disheveled, wearing one of Hyojong’s t-shirts, and when she stretches her arms skyward and the shirt rides up her stomach, Hyojong sees she’s wearing truly ridiculous magenta checked boxers that she’s evidently lifted from Hui. “When I woke up and saw you were both gone, I thought you were killing each other, but I guess I got the double consonant wrong.”

“It’s too early in the morning for wordplay,” Hyojong says, but catches Hui’s eye, gets shy, and goes red. “I made coffee. Or tried to.”

“Leave that to the pros,” Hyuna says, breezing past him but then changing her mind and doubling back to kiss him. “Good morning, honey. What were you two talking about?”

“Childbirth, I think,” Hui says. “And Hyojong said he was homeschooled, is that true?”

Hyojong scoffs at the implication he’d lie about something like that, but Hyuna nods, stealing the coffee from the counter and taking an experimental sip. “Oh, this is disgusting,” she says, putting it down again. “Yeah, he was homeschooled from elementary until middle school, but his high school was so tiny it may as well have been a homeschool, too. Straight from there to FSU. Crazy, right?”

Hui is looking at him with weird, soft eyes. “Good for you, man.”

“Wow,” Hyojong says. “T-shirt slogan idea: I put my tongue down Hui’s throat and all I got for it was man-zoned.”

Hui laughs, turning away to put on another pot of coffee now that Hyuna has deemed Hyojong’s unacceptable. Hyojong eyes him, wondering if he’s really feeling better or if it’s all for show again, like the past few weeks have likely been. 

“Did you sleep okay?” Hui asks Hyuna, who puts her arm around his waist and leans up to kiss his cheek. “I think you kicked me a few times.”

“That just happens,” Hyuna says. “Doesn’t mean I slept badly. Did the kicking disturb you?”

Hui shrugs. “Not really. Next time I’ll kick back.”

“You do that,” Hyuna laughs, getting out mugs and seeing what they have available as breakfast options. Hyojong watches them moving around the small kitchen, watches Hyuna going through the fridge, and can’t help feeling like it’s all familiar, like he’s been doing this for far longer than he has been. Hui, the slippery bastard, has worked his way very thoroughly into Hyojong’s life, almost inextricably. Hyojong doesn’t know what’s going to happen when they get to Brazil.

“What do we want to do today? Find somewhere beachy?” Hui says, taking the pot off the heat to make the coffee. “I have no idea where we are, I’ve lost track, but there are probably beaches.”

Hyojong looks out of the window and nods. “I think I see a beach. I could go for a beach.”

“You’re actually volunteering to do something aquatic and fun?” Hyuna gasps. “Are you feeling okay?”

Hyojong rolls his eyes. “You’d better take my temperature. Do your sexy nurse routine, as if you need an excuse.”

“There’s a sexy nurse routine?” Hui says weakly and Hyuna laughs.

“I haven’t done that in too long, I don’t remember how it works. Do your sexy patient routine first,” she says, poking Hyojong’s shoulder.

“Ow, no,” he huffs, stepping away. “That was never a thing, that was just you being weird.”

“It was very sexy,” Hyuna tells Hui solemnly. “It involved lots of groaning and calling for more water.”

“Huh,” Hui says, glancing at Hyojong with amusement. “Sounds irresistible.”

“I had the flu,” Hyojong says. “Call it method acting if you will, but I really just seriously think it was Hyuna being weird.”

“Whatever,” Hyuna sighs. “I’m gonna go change into my swimsuit, and then I demand a beach.” She kisses Hui on the cheek one more time, wags her finger teasingly at Hyojong, then goes off to change. 

“Are those my boxers?” Hui calls after her, but she just laughs and doesn’t answer.

They take the dinghy out and row to the beach, which is small but good, just enough space for them and the two or three other families out on the water this morning. Hyojong stays on the shore as Hui and Hyuna play in the shallows, pushing each other over and running races. He digs his fingers into the sand and watches as the waves roll over his hands, watches as tiny, almost translucent grey crabs burrow deep to hide from view, picks up a piece of sea glass and turns it over in his palm. The sun is in his eyes and reflecting off the water so brightly that he can barely see Hyuna and Hui at all, but he can see that they’re kissing and laughing, and then Hyuna runs up the beach and kisses him, too, pushing him down until he gets sand in his hair and then a wave surprises them both and submerges them. Hui has to pull them both up and then they all cling to each other and laugh until they’re hoarse and Hyuna is complaining too much about the taste of saltwater for them to continue.

When they get back to the boat, Hyuna doesn’t bother with modesty and just strips off to shower outside, which makes Hui go a shade of red Hyojong hasn’t seen on him before, and Hyojong’s not much better off, stammering something about lunch and running inside to cook it. Hyuna makes fun of them both mercilessly for the next hour, but she’s also delighted by this newfound power, and she spends the whole evening lifting up her shirt to flash them when they’re in the middle of a conversation, thereby derailing everyone’s train of thought, until Hyojong can’t take it anymore and kisses her until she’s squirming and Hui puts a hand on her thigh to keep her still and they all end up in her bed. 

Because of the kicking incident, Hui refuses to sleep in the middle again, and Hyuna volunteers Hyojong to do it so he can prove it was a one-off event and Hui’s in no real danger. He agrees, curling around Hyuna like he’s used to, but Hui behind him, his arms around his waist and his mouth right on Hyojong’s ear when he says good night, is new, is kind of overwhelming. Hyojong’s stomach flips when Hui’s fingers brush over it as he adjusts his hold on him. Hui can probably tell how flustered Hyojong is, and the only thing stopping him from making fun is that he’s just as flustered, too. Hyuna’s not making fun because she’s asleep already, two orgasms from two different hands having worn her out pretty thoroughly. 

“Well?” Hyuna demands the next morning, a hickey on the bend of her shoulder mirroring one on Hyojong’s. “Did I kick or not?”

“I’m deciding,” Hyojong says.

“How can you be _deciding_ if I kicked?” Hyuna laughs, but then remembers she’s supposed to be mad and crosses her arms, frowning. 

“I’m deciding,” Hyojong says again, which makes Hyuna laugh again, leaning into Hui. “Okay, fine, you did kick, but not very much, and I only noticed because I was already awake. Hui was drooling on me.”

“No, I wasn’t,” Hui says, horrified, and Hyojong just raises his eyebrows at him. “Was I really? No way!”

“You weren’t,” Hyojong says with a shrug. “I only said that to make Hyuna feel better. Wait, cover her ears so she doesn’t hear that.”

“You asshole,” Hyuna says, still laughing. “See if I ever let either of you sleep in the middle again.”

They all grin stupidly at each other, the bickering mostly forgotten as they set about the business of the day. Hui turns the engine on and steers them away from the shore for fear of too-shallow water, but he doesn’t go too fast, because Hyuna’s main agenda item for the day is seeing a dolphin, which, apparently, she can’t do if he’s going too fast. 

Hyuna and Hyojong sit on the main deck pretending to read — Hyojong still hasn’t fucking finished _Pet Sematary_ — but mostly just making eyes at Hui. He slows the boat down so they can talk over the noise of the engine, and Hyuna keeps them all very posted on her dolphin search. 

“I think— no, that’s a buoy, dammit,” she gripes, standing up to see better. “Are they avoiding me on purpose?”

“Yes, that’s definitely it,” Hyojong says, trying not to roll his eyes. “Didn’t you see some the first day?”

“That was so long ago that I don’t even know how long ago it was,” Hyuna huffs. “Hui, slow down.”

“We might have a better chance if we go faster. They like to play in the waves boats make,” Hui points out, but slows down anyway. 

“Let Dawn drive, you can help me look,” Hyuna demands, and Hui sighs, getting up from the wheel so Hyojong can take over. “I don’t think he’s fully committed to the search, so.”

“Ouch,” Hyojong says, grinning as he gets up and takes Hui’s seat. “After all my years of training in the dolphin-spotting brigade, you say such hurtful things to me?”

“Whatever,” Hyuna says, making grabby hands for Hui, who comes over to sit next to her. “Are you committed?”

“Very,” Hui promises. “I’ll spot you a dolphin if it’s the last thing I do.”

“Don’t be melodramatic, baby, but thank you,” Hyuna says, patting his chest and leaning her head on his shoulder. “That’s the kind of commitment I was looking for. Now hush, if we talk too loud we’ll scare them off.”

“Where are you getting this information about dolphins?” Hui laughs, but stops talking, leaning against her as well. 

The search is evidently fruitless, or they start making out, because then they’re quiet for a while. Hyojong glances back at them and sees that Hui is reading Hyojong’s book and Hyuna is reading over his shoulder. He’s only seen one photo of them together as children, but he’s struck by how little they’ve actually changed, barring unnatural hair colors and puberty. Hyuna catches him staring and winks at him over her sunglasses, and he smiles and looks ahead again.

“I’m gonna go make lunch,” Hyuna announces after about another half-hour. “If anyone sees a dolphin, let me know.”

“Okay,” Hui says, smiling up at her and setting the book down. Hyuna puts her sunglasses on the book to mark their page, and the way the boat is moving combined with a small gust of wind sends them overboard immediately. She shrieks, running to the back of the boat, but Hui grabs her to keep her from going. “It’s okay! Hyojong, turn the engine off, I’ll go get ‘em.” 

“Are you sure?” Hyuna says very miserably, leaning over to look at the water. “They’re my favorite, I’d hate to lose them.”

“I’ll get them,” Hui promises as Hyojong turns the engine off. “How deep is it?”

“Only 20,” Hyojong says, leaning in to look at the dial. Which is surprising; they're kinda far out, he’d have expected deeper.

“See? It’s fine,” Hui says with a bright smile, then pulls his shirt off just to look cool. “One pair of very wet sunglasses, coming right up.”

He dives off the back and Hyuna whistles encouragingly, Hyojong coming to stand next to her and watch as Hui swims down after the sunglasses. He’s a strong swimmer, evidently, because he stops being visible after not particularly long, vanishing in the water behind the boat. 

Hyuna and Hyojong stand there and look at the place where Hui was. “Do your glasses float?” Hyojong asks, pushing his hair back from his face.

“I’m not sure,” Hyuna says, then hums as she tries to remember. “Maybe… not? I don’t know, they’re pretty heavy.”

“He’s been down there a while,” Hyojong says. They really are out far from land, why is the water so shallow? If it’s so shallow why isn’t he back up yet, sunglasses in hand, triumphant?

“Yeah,” Hyuna says slowly. “Can you see him?”

“No.”

Hyojong doesn’t even think about sea monsters or drowning. Hui is down there, and he’s alone, and he should be back by now. He steps away from Hyuna and dives off into the water with a lot less finesse than Hui had, and opens his eyes when he’s under, looking for him.

The water burns his eyes but he presses on, strong kicks sending him deep fast. It’s dark, he’s in the shadow of the boat, and when a ray of sunlight cuts through the water he sees it and almost inhales a lungful of seawater, his heart going cold.

It’s deep around him, too deep to see the ocean floor, but a rotting, forgotten shipwreck looms jagged out of the deep, black wood, ancient masts, collapsed decks. The ship is huge, big enough that it tricked the yacht into thinking the seafloor was thirty feet closer than it is. The water is so, so quiet. Hyojong can’t even hear his own heartbeat in his ears as he forces himself to keep going, down into the deep where it’s calling him, where it’s always been calling him. Hui is down there, he reminds himself, and he pushes on.

He doesn’t look up or around, even though it would be so easy to go back up for more air, to Hyuna, back home. Hyojong remembers every movie he’s ever seen where they find the body of someone who drowned, how blue their skin gets, cold lips, sightless eyes, freezing in the warm water of the Caribbean, where the fuck is Hui? Hyojong’s head is starting to spin and his lungs are starting to burn and then he sees him.

He’s down by the wreck, pale against the dark shape of it, and he’s not swimming or struggling — he might be barely conscious. Hyojong’s limbs are screaming but he goes to him, even though he feels like he’s ten years old again and crying at the city pool because he didn’t want to go where he couldn’t breathe. His eyes sting and all he can see is Hui, blinders on so he doesn’t look around at whatever unfathomable horrors are reaching their hands out for him out of the rotting, skeletal wood of the ship. He reaches him and he grabs his arm, yanking at him, and Hui starts to turn his head very slowly to face him but Hyojong doesn’t look, can’t look. He might be dead already, and if Hyojong looks at him and he’s blue and cold he’ll never be able to see anything else again. 

Hyojong puts his arm around his waist and kicks up. His feet make contact with the shipwreck and the wood gives way under him, crumbling down, and Hyojong could scream, and Hui isn’t moving, isn’t helping him swim. He tries again, and even though the wood falls away under his kick it still propels them up. Hyojong can see the sun on the water. It’s so far away, so far, and he’s so tired, there’s nothing left in his lungs, Hui is in his arms and they could just sink down and be together and not worry about money or going anywhere or doing anything at all, just quiet, at peace.

But Hyuna is up there. Hyuna and the sun and home are up there. Hyojong takes everything he has and keeps swimming up, even though the deep is calling to him like it always has. Hyuna’s call is stronger, and Hui needs her, Hyojong needs her, they’d be lost without her down on the sea floor. 

He pushes Hui up above him and he can hear his gasp even from under the water. Hyojong holds onto him and breaks the surface, too, blinded by the sun and choking and gasping until his lungs forgive him and let him breathe again. He keeps his arm around Hui and starts hauling him back to the boat, a blurry white dot a dozen feet away. Hui’s barely moving, still, but he’s gasping in ragged, wet breaths and his fingers are digging into Hyojong’s arm hard enough to bruise, and when they make it to the yacht Hyojong once again pushes Hui up first, one leg braced against the ladder for leverage.

Someone else grabs Hui and together, they manage to get him on board. Hyuna, Hyojong realizes through the fog in his head, and his burning eyes find her. She’s shaking, tears streaming down her face, and she reaches for Hyojong next, dragging him on next to Hui.

Hyojong lies on his back and closes his eyes against the sun, his chest heaving with his breaths. He tries to calm the roar in his ears long enough to listen for Hui, and he hears him breathing, too, and Hyuna crying, and it would be so easy to just pass out but Hyuna is shaking his shoulders until he opens his eyes again.

“You idiot,” she says, sobbing. “What happened?”

Hui coughs out water, his arm pressed against Hyojong’s. “I— I— I couldn’t get your sunglasses,” he says, and Hyuna half-shouts, half-laughs, thwacking his chest and making him cough again. 

Hyojong closes his eyes and all he can see is the wreck underneath them, the way the wood collapsed at the first touch, how fucking deep and endless the water was around them. It's like a personal nightmare come to life, and he can feel anxiety’s cold grip tightening on his heart. He opens his eyes and Hui is pale and gasping for air but he's alive, he's okay, and that's what matters. Hyojong turns over so he's on his side and presses his face into Hui’s shoulder, listening to his ragged breathing, and it's all he can do not to scream. 

He may not scream, but he can't stop himself crying, too, shaking a little as he presses against Hui’s side. Hyuna’s hand scrapes over his back and Hui barely lifts his arm to put it over Hyojong. 

“Hyuna— don’t hug so tight,” Hui mumbles, and Hyuna apologizes and moves back quickly, still staying close, crying onto his shoulder. Hyojong realizes one of his hands is pressed to Hui’s chest, too, and he moves it aside, not wanting to take any more of his breath away. 

Finally, Hui’s breath is back to normal and he’s not coughing so much. Hyuna is reluctant to leave but Hui asks her for some water and she runs off to get it. Hyojong hasn’t moved away from Hui one inch, and only when Hui gently pushes at him does he lift his head.

“Are you crying?” Hui murmurs, moving his hand to swipe shaky fingers over Hyojong’s damp cheek. “Hyojong?”

Hyojong doesn’t answer, just looks away, looking back out at the water. _This is mine_ , he thinks savagely. _This is mine. You don’t take this from me. You stay away from us._

Hyuna comes back with water and towels, also still crying, and she helps Hui sit up, then Hyojong. “What happened?” she asks again, handing Hui a glass of water, and he shrugs, leaning back against the wall. 

“There was— it was a shipwreck, I think, and I got distracted at first,” he explains, clearing his throat before having some water. Hyojong barely notices when Hyuna presses a glass into his hands, too, but he drinks some, keeping his eyes on the deck of the boat so he doesn’t have to look at the sea. “And I couldn’t see your glasses so I went deeper and then I guess I accidentally breathed and I don’t know what happened after that.”

Hyuna looks to Hyojong for answers, but he doesn’t have any, either. He just shrugs, which sends her inexplicably into a new wave of tears, reaching out for him. He takes her hand and laces their fingers together tightly as she cries into Hui’s shoulder. “And are you okay?” she says, her voice trembling. “Dawnie, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Hyojong says, squeezing her hand as best he can. Now that he knows Hui’s okay, he can panic about what he just did, how he just dove in like it’s not the thing he fears most, being underwater like that. They’ve drifted a little but not very much — the wreck is probably still under them, incomprehensibly horrible, motionless, infinite, calling to him. He squeezes his eyes shut and presses his face into Hui’s shoulder.

“Thank you,” Hui says, hoarse. He nudges Hyojong so he knows he’s talking to him. “Thank you. For going after me.”

“Shut up,” Hyojong mumbles. Hui tries to say something again, but Hyojong shakes his head quickly and he stops. 

He’d thought he loved Hyuna with all his heart, but he’s starting to think he was wrong, or maybe his heart grew. Either way, it physically hurts somewhere in his chest when Hyuna makes a weak noise and smacks the back of Hui’s head pretty firmly, saying, “Don’t you ever fucking dare do anything like that ever fucking again. You think I care about my sunglasses that much? Fuck you, you’re so stupid, and Dawnie, I was so scared, you were both really going to just fucking drown while we’re in the middle of nowhere for my sunglasses? I love you both so much, and this is how you treat me?” and clings to Hui, her other hand going out to grab for Hyojong. 

“I love you, too,” Hui says, sounding like he’s going to cry, and Hyuna laughs wetly into his chest, evidently a little delirious from how much she’d worried.

“So don’t do it again,” Hyuna murmurs when she’s done laughing. “Understand? Capisce? Never again. I’ll get new sunglasses whenever we stop next and I’ll borrow yours until then. Okay?”

“Got it,” Hui says. His arm is around Hyojong, fingers pressed to his arm in the same place they’d been when Hyojong had been dragging him back to the boat. Hyojong knows he can never let him out of his sight again, because there’s obviously no end to what he’ll get up to when unsupervised. 

Hyojong is pretty much done crying now, and he distantly thinks that maybe he should be embarrassed about crying, but that’s a concern for later. Right now, what matters is that he got Hui back and he’s not going to let him go. He feels the same inexorable pull Hyuna must have felt when she first got that email from him, half a year ago. Fucking Hui and his strange hypnosis, his inescapable, subtle way of making himself the center of the universe. Hyojong would resent him for it if he didn’t love it so much. He’s at his best when he has someone to worry about, and up until recently, it’s always been Hyuna — he’ll be even better now that there are two someones who require twice as much worry. He presses his face against Hui’s shoulder and exhales slowly, listening to his breath and his heartbeat. He wants to tie him down so he can’t run away again, but for now he settles for pressing against his side and taking the hand Hyuna isn’t holding tightly. 

“I’m okay,” Hui says quietly, his lips pressed to the top of Hyojong’s head. “See? I’m fine.”

“I know,” Hyojong mumbles. It doesn’t matter that he’s okay — he’s still not letting go.

“Because of you,” Hui says, getting choked up again, and Hyojong squeezes his hand tightly to shut him up. 

“I’ll drive,” Hyuna says, kissing Hui on the cheek and then pulling away. “Get us closer to shore and we can anchor for the day. Okay?”

“Okay,” Hui murmurs, shifting slightly so he can lean into Hyojong the way Hyojong is leaning into him. Hyojong knows he’s probably making things weird by clinging onto him like this and refusing to move, but Hui is neither commenting on it nor pulling away, and when Hyojong slides his arm around Hui’s waist, Hui puts his hand on Hyojong’s shoulder and tugs him in closer in return. They rest their foreheads together for a moment, then Hui shifts down so he can put his face into Hyojong’s neck and breathe. 

Hyuna starts the boat and spends a little bit of time checking the compass before turning them around and setting off in the direction of the shore. Hui stays there, leaned up against Hyojong and with his face in his neck, and Hyojong rubs his thumb gently back and forth on his ribs until they’re both quiet and relaxed and don’t need to hold each other so tightly anymore. 

“Are you hungry? Can I get you anything?” Hyuna calls after about half an hour, and Hui jerks slightly, then lifts his head to look back at her. “Also, Hui, baby, I’m sorry, but could you come help with the anchor?”

“Sure,” Hui says, starting to pull away from Hyojong. But he doesn’t go far yet, and he leans in for a small, close-mouthed kiss, his hand tightening on his shoulder. Hyojong kisses him back, and Hui nips his lower lip teasingly to make Hyojong smile, then gets up and slowly makes his way over to Hyuna. He pulls some lever to lower the anchor, leaning against Hyuna’s chair, and she looks up at him with eyes so adoring that Hyojong’s self-consciousness makes him look away — he knows that he must look at Hui the exact same way, and it’s almost embarrassing to see that emotion reflected on someone else’s face. 

He gets up and goes to them, tucking his chin over Hyuna’s shoulder, and she bumps her head lightly against his as she turns the engine off. “We can all go inside and relax,” she suggests quietly. “I can cook something, if you’re hungry.”

“You hate cooking, though,” Hyojong says, and she shrugs.

“It’s the least I can do. You both had such a stressful day,” she says, her lip trembling briefly, and Hyojong turns his head to kiss her neck and the impossibly soft skin under her jaw. She makes a quiet noise and leans into him, closing her eyes for a moment. “I’m okay. Shh. Go away, let me cook for you.”

“No,” Hyojong mumbles, kissing her lightly again. “Worry less. I can cook. Let’s all go in, though.”

“Okay,” Hyuna sighs, then gets up and takes Hui by the hand. She leans in to kiss him, standing up on her toes and putting her free arm around his shoulders. “How are you feeling?”

“Just fine,” Hui says, kissing her back. Hyojong keeps an eye on them as they go inside hand in hand, then follows, because the alternative is staying outside and looking at the water instead.

“I wish we could just call for a pizza and pass out on the couch or something,” Hyuna says, and by now Hyojong has identified that tone of voice as the one she uses when she’s either about to cry or trying very hard not to. “I’m tired of being out here.”

“We’ll be back on land soon,” Hui murmurs, and Hyuna freezes briefly, looking up at him.

“No, I— I didn’t mean it like that,” she says, putting her hand on his chest and rubbing in a soft circle. “I love it, you know I do. I just miss… I don’t know, society.”

“But you hate society,” Hyojong points out, but he also comes to be close to them, standing on Hyuna’s other side so she’s sandwiched all cozy between them like she likes to be. 

“I know,” Hyuna huffs, head-butting his shoulder. “I don’t mean that like that, either.”

“Well, you’re not making any sense,” Hyojong says fondly, kissing the top of her head. He does know what she means, though. Even if he doesn’t miss being around people or going to work, it’s nice having all the conveniences of modern technology at his disposal, and he allows his mind to linger for a second on a night in with Hyuna and Hui in their shoebox apartment, arguing over what pizza toppings to get and all tangling up in bed and watching something on late-night cable, before his heart starts to hurt too much.

It’s not realistic. He hasn’t thought about the future after Brazil beyond going back to Orlando with Hyuna. Hui’s going to sell the boat and then take the money to his mother, probably, and then — Hyojong doesn’t know, but he’s pretty sure it won’t involve anything so lazy-cozy and domestic as that. They’ll probably never be like this again, the three of them. He doubts Hui would want to come back with them anyway, even if he did get the guts up to ask. He can’t think about it, it makes him dizzy with anxiety, so he stops thinking and kisses Hyuna’s hair again.

“I think we might still have a frozen pizza left,” Hui says thoughtfully. It’s nice to know that he’s not terror-stricken at the first implication of the future like Hyojong is and can talk so calmly about dinner. “Want me to heat it up?”

“I’ll do it,” Hyuna says, wiggling between them until she has room to step away. “I don’t mind cooking when it’s reheating or ordering on the phone.”

“So… not cooking at all,” Hui says, hiding a smile, and she shrugs, going into the kitchen and finding the pizza at the back of the freezer.

“I’m really good at that kind of cooking,” she says, fiddling with the settings on the fragile little oven.

“She is,” Hyojong confirms when Hui glances at him. This feels good, normal, like Hui didn’t nearly kill them both a couple of hours ago. “Master chef of frozen foods.”

“And leftovers,” Hyuna reminds.

“Those, too,” Hyojong murmurs. Now he’s thinking about the home they made together again, how regardless of what happens it’s gone, they’ll have to start over. Maybe that’s a good thing, he tells himself. A fresh start. Maybe there’s room for Hui in that, and—

He shakes his head to snap out of it and looks at Hui, his messy hair, his symmetrical mouth. Hui feels eyes on him and looks, and Hyojong doesn’t look away, unblinking, unmoving. When he and Hyuna first met she told him not to stare so much when they were out because people might think he was planning to kill her or something, but whenever they were alone together he could stare as much as he wanted. It’s never been intentional, but when there’s this much to see, how can he help but stare? Hui doesn’t seem too fazed, just smiling at him, and Hyojong only looks away because he hears Hyuna cough pointedly. She raises her eyebrows at him and he shrugs in response, because he knows what she’s commenting on and he doesn’t have anything to say in his defense. 

Hui goes over to sit and Hyojong follows him, sitting down close to his side. Hui slings an arm over his shoulders easily so Hyojong can lean in, and Hyuna smiles big and bright when she sees them curled up together like that. “Cute,” she says, blowing them a kiss. “I told—”

“Don’t,” Hyojong says, turning his head so his face is in Hui’s shoulder again, and Hyuna laughs briefly, returning to her pseudo-cooking.

Hui’s fingers brush over Hyojong’s shoulder. “Are you okay?” he asks, sounding cautious. “I’m… fine, you know that, right? You don’t have to worry.”

“I’m not worried,” Hyojong says, which is a half-truth at best. He’s not worried about Hui’s health, no, but he sure is worried about every damn thing else. However, this is probably Hui’s way of telling him to back off, so he starts to scoot away, but Hui tightens his grip and keeps him where he is before he can get far. “I’m just…”

“He’s like a cat,” Hyuna explains from the kitchen, and Hyojong rolls his eyes. Whatever she’s got to say, it’s not going to be particularly good. “Have you ever had a cat?”

“My mom has one right now, I think,” Hui says. “Why?”

“Well, he’s exactly like a cat,” Hyuna shrugs. “You know how possessive he can get. And he likes his alone time, and crawling up into weird places, and bringing me wacky gifts as a sign of appreciation. And once you win his trust, he’s just gonna sit in your lap and stare at you forever.”

“Okay,” Hyojong mumbles, squirming out of Hui’s hold and getting up, “stop it, I’m not like that.”

“Yes, you are,” Hyuna says, smiling fondly at him, but she huffs when he doesn’t smile back. “Dawnie, don’t be mad, I was just explaining so he doesn’t get weirded out.”

“I wasn’t weirded out,” Hui says mildly.

“Crawling— I did that _one time_ ,” Hyojong says, frowning. 

“It’s not a bad thing,” Hyuna assures him, giving up on whatever she was fiddling around with in the kitchen and going over to take his chin in her hands. “I love cats. And I think it’s really cute, it’s not a bad thing.”

“Whatever,” Hyojong mumbles, but he kisses her back when she kisses him softly in apology. “Let me know when the pizza’s done.”

“Where are you going?” Hyuna says, releasing his chin so he can step back.

Hyojong finds his pack of cigarettes stashed away in one of the kitchen cupboards and shakes it demonstratively. He doesn’t want to leave either of their sides, but he can’t joke around right now, he has no idea how Hyuna and Hui can both be so jovial when Hyojong’s world is turning upside down and has been for the past month and he can’t hold on anymore. Hyuna sighs but hands him his lighter, which she used to light a scented candle a couple of nights ago, and he goes outside and to the top deck without looking back.

If his heart really has grown to give Hui room, he wishes he could undo it. There’s not enough space in his chest for all of this. It had been a huge shock when Hyuna suddenly came along; he’d cared about things and people before, but never that much or that intensely. Uncharted territory, totally new emotions, that was what it was like when he met Hyuna. By now, he knows what it feels like and he’s almost used to it, but just because he can recognize the beginning stages of the process doesn’t make it easy. He doesn’t want it. He doesn’t have room. And what makes it even worse is that he doubts Hui wants it, either. 

Unfortunately, neither of them has a choice. Hyojong knows that it’s inevitable, and he also knows that it won’t be easy to adjust the trajectory of his orbit to revolve around two celestial bodies and not one. He leans back on his elbows and looks up at the stars for some advice, but when he doesn’t get any, he exhales smoke at them and keeps staring until the stars on the edges of his vision fade from view.

He can hear Hui and Hyuna talking downstairs, too muffled to be comprehensible. He is like a cat, he thinks ruefully, he does like to be alone in a high place, unbothered. Hyuna is closer than family to him, but he needs time away even from her, and he doesn’t know what that says about him. It’s not that he’s not lonely, but being alone is what he’s used to, and anything else feels unnatural and too good to be true. Like a daydream, maybe, or a very long movie. Hyuna knows he gets like this sometimes, caught up debating whether he _deserves_ the life he’s made or not, and she’s good at snapping him out of it when he tells her he’s having a bad night, but she’s had enough to deal with today. He won’t ask that of her, not when Hui’s there, too. 

How is it possible to be in love with someone you barely even like? He contemplates that for a moment as he taps the ash from the end of his cigarette. He was content to merely have a crush, not be in love, but. He worries about Hui. He likes the way he sleeps, his rumpled hair when he wakes up. The voices he did when he was reading aloud. His perfectly self-conscious smile which seems more and more genuine every time Hyojong sees it. Kissing him, touching him, being able to look at him and not feeling like he has to look away. Hyojong isn’t too proud to admit that he likes all of those things individually, at least. He likes the parts, but as to their sum, he’s not sure yet. Maybe his heart knows more than his brain does, for now, and he’ll just have to wait and see.

It seems like it would be too cliche to mutter “fuck” under his breath while going through this kind of angst, so Hyojong stays quiet, ashing off his cigarette again and sitting up straighter to prevent his joints from hurting. He hears footsteps on the stairs and his traitor heart leaps, wondering which of them it’ll be, what they’ll have to say, and when he turns his head and sees Hyuna and Hui both, he inclines his head in greeting and scoots back so there’s room for them to sit down.

“Missed you,” Hyuna explains, smiling at him and tugging on one of her hoodie strings — technically Hyojong’s hoodie, but she commandeered it for herself so long ago that he doesn’t even think of it as his own anymore. “Are we interrupting anything?”

“Nah,” Hyojong murmurs. Maybe he misses his job, too. It was unfulfilling, unpleasant work, but at least no one ever doubted him. Until Hui came along, that is. The routine, then, of having a place to be every evening. Maybe that’s what he misses and that’s why he feels so nostalgic, practically on the brink of tears. “Things okay? Pizza?”

“It’s in there, it still has five minutes left,” Hyuna nods. On Hyojong’s other side, Hui is sitting down and looking up at the cloudless night sky. “Are you cold? I can bring you a shirt.”

“Nah,” Hyojong says again, but does shiver when he feels a light touch on the middle of his back. 

“I like this,” Hui says, his voice quiet, as his fingertips trace over the lines of one of the tattoos on Hyojong’s back. Out of the corner of his eye, Hyojong sees Hyuna shake her head very quickly as if to dissuade Hui from commenting on it, but even though Hyojong sort of tenses, he doesn’t push the touch away.

“I do, too,” he says, hoping his tone communicates that he doesn’t plan on giving any kind of touchy-feely backstory tonight. When he and Hui were trucing after their big fight, he said he’d tell Hui anything he wanted about his life and he meant it, just. Not tonight. He has too much on his mind to be able to talk, but to his own surprise, he’s not disappointed at the loss of solitude that’s come with Hui and Hyuna joining him outside. They’ve quieted down, too, and he can tell Hyuna’s sleepy.

“Come inside,” Hyuna murmurs after a few minutes have passed, gently touching his arm. “Can I go through your stuff? I like wearing your shirts and I’m running out of ones that you just left lying around.”

“What? Since when have you needed to ask?” Hyojong says, which makes Hyuna shrug, leaning in to kiss his cheek.

“Just thought I’d be polite.”

“Yeah? Since when?” Hyojong asks, and Hyuna laughs again, shoving him gently.

“See if I ever try to be nice to you again,” she warns, getting up and holding her hands out for both of them to take. Hyojong stands up and links his fingers with Hyuna’s, and Hui does the same, and together they file down the stairs and into the galley.

Now, Hyojong makes a conscious effort not to stare at Hui. Now that he knows how he feels — or, at least, he’s started to think about how he feels instead of ignoring it or pretending to hate him — he doesn’t want to give too much away. Hyuna, he’s always suspected, can read his thoughts, so the less he thinks about it, the better. Looking at Hui makes him think about everything he wants and everything he doesn’t dare to want, and he knows he’s going to get his heart broken eventually, which he’d rather happen before he got too attached. Preemptive damage control is what Hyojong is good at, what he used to be paid to do. God, he wants to stare at him, though, but he settles for sitting close to his side and sneaking glances at him out of the corner of his eye as they eat dinner.

They make land within the next couple of days to stock up on food and shampoo, and even though it’s been a few days since the incident with the sunglasses and the shipwreck, Hyojong’s protectiveness and worry haven’t subsided in the slightest. He sticks to Hui’s side as they walk into town, sits next to him at lunch, ignores Hyuna when she pokes him teasingly. He promised himself that he wasn’t going to let Hui out of his sight like that again, and he meant it. Hui doesn’t mind, letting Hyojong guide him by the wrist through a busy market and just smiling whenever he catches Hyojong staring. And Hyuna finally gets everyone hats like she’s wanted to since the first day, a navy-blue captain hat for Hyojong, a straw boater hat for Hui. 

Back on the boat, Hui finds a deck of cards somewhere in the depths of the library, and Hyuna wastes three-quarters of an hour teaching them the very complicated rules to some very complicated game before they decide to just play strip Go Fish instead. They’re not wearing many clothes, so it doesn’t last particularly long, and of course they end up in her bed again. What else are you supposed to do when you’re this young and this in love? And it turns out Hyuna brought a vibrator with her, because of course she did, and she teases Hyojong while Hui teases her, turning the buzz down to barely anything any time she’s about to come. Her hand falters on Hyojong’s dick and she bites Hui’s lip hard enough to make him whine.

“That’s what you get,” she says, kissing him all messy again. “Why don’t you want to make me come? You broke my heart and now you’re still tormenting me? Where’s the justice?” But she can’t continue along this line of questioning because Hui presses a button to turn the vibrator up to the highest setting, making her shriek and then moan, arching up and squirming her hips to keep the vibrator pressed against her. 

Hyojong resumes kissing her neck, nudging her wrist gently to get her to start stroking him off again. She does, her thumb brushing over the head of his cock, and he bites her neck gratefully. He can’t remember who left what marks on her skin — she’s got love bites from her ear to her shoulder, and the only one he knows for sure is from Hui is the one shaped like a heart. 

Her breath starts getting shallow and she’s flushed all over, and finally she pushes Hui’s hand away. “I regret telling you I had that,” she says, kicking him when he sneaks the vibrator between her legs again. “Now fuck me.”

“Me?” Hui says, turning the vibrator off and tossing it aside. “Or Hyojong?”

Hyuna shrugs and covers her eyes with a hand. “Surprise me.”

“Okay,” Hui says, grinning over at Hyojong. 

“And then I’ll guess who,” Hyuna adds, moving up the bed and keeping her eyes covered.

“What do you get if you guess right?” Hui says. He takes Hyuna’s other wrist and moves that hand up so she can’t cheat by touch. 

“At least three edging-free orgasms, fuck you,” Hyuna says, but allows him to move her hand, grasping hold of a pillow. “Deal?”

“Deal,” Hui nods. Hyojong sits up and he and Hui have a brief nonverbal conversation about who’s going to do it, which ends with a silent game of rock-paper-scissors. Hyuna figures out what they’re doing and starts giggling, and after three iterations, Hyojong wins. Hui reaches over the bed to grab a condom for him, then kisses him fast, but Hyojong grabs him by the shoulder so he can’t pull away just yet. 

“What’s taking so long?” Hyuna huffs, lifting her hand slightly to look at them as Hyojong kisses Hui again and Hui sucks at Hyojong’s lower lip. “Hello? Did you decide?”

“Yeah,” Hyojong mumbles into Hui’s mouth, licking their tongues together and swallowing the sound Hui makes. 

“Well, any day now,” Hyuna says, but she doesn’t sound too upset, shifting on the bed to press her thighs together as she watches. 

Hyojong hums absently, running a hand down Hui’s side, and Hui arches against him, his fingers pressing hard into Hyojong’s shoulder. Hui’s not normally this handsy, but he’s feeling Hyojong up very thoroughly, palms dragging over his back, his waist, his hips. Hyojong is reminded of the first time Hyuna kissed him, the way she pressed her body to his like she couldn’t get enough of their closeness. Finally, Hui makes himself pull back, but he bites his lower lip to keep the feeling of their kiss going. “No peeking,” he says to Hyuna, a little hoarse, and she rolls her eyes but covers her face again.

Hyojong gets the condom on and Hui parts Hyuna’s legs for him, leaning in to make sure her eyes are closed under her hand. She can tell he’s close to her and snaps her teeth at him playfully, and he laughs and sits up, then guides one of Hyojong’s hands to be on her left hip while Hui’s curls around her right. Hyojong lines himself up and pushes in — she’s slick enough that it takes no effort at all, sliding home like he belongs there — and has to cover his mouth with his palm to keep from making a sound and giving himself away. Hyuna doesn’t stay quiet, though, moaning and hissing “ _fuck_ yes” when Hyojong starts rocking his hips into her.

“I’m— ah— deciding,” Hyuna pants, and when Hui runs his hand up from her hip to play with her nipple she moans softly and tightens around Hyojong. He barely manages to refrain from moaning, too, because she’s so hot around him and he was close already, and the only reason he doesn’t let out any noise is because he drops his head down to Hui’s shoulder before he gets the chance to, gasping quietly against his skin. Hui tilts his head down and catches his mouth in another kiss, tongue in his mouth to keep him quiet. 

“Well?” Hui murmurs after a while, sounding just as breathless as Hyojong feels. His lips are puffy from kissing and he can’t seem to make himself pull away from Hyojong except to look at Hyuna, who whines quietly at the question.

“I’m pretty sure,” she says, rolling her hips down and clenching around him again, “that it’s Dawn.” She waits for a response, not uncovering her eyes yet, her breaths fast and shallow.

Hyojong is too far gone to smile, but Hui does, leaning down to kiss Hyuna and pull her hand away from her eyes. “Do you want all your orgasms consecutively, or as an IOU?” he asks, and she laughs, kissing him back and then looking up at Hyojong.

“Honey,” she breathes, reaching her hand up for him. “Knew it was you. Feels so good. Do you feel good, honey?”

Hyojong nods, tossing his head to get his hair out of his eyes, and she smiles up at him blindingly before a shiver runs up her body and she moans, tilting her head into Hui, who’s whispering something into her ear and moving his hand down to rub her clit. Hui looks up at Hyojong, sidelong, through his eyelashes, and Hyuna is so wet that she’s dripping onto the sheets, and Hyojong feels dizzy, drifting, sex-drunk, out of his mind. Hyuna puts one of her legs up over his shoulder so he can fuck her deeper and he does, his hand gripping her thigh, and then it’s just heat and fireworks going off in his head and Hyuna’s sweet-filthy sounds until he’s really losing it and the only things keeping him grounded as he shoots off somewhere into hyperspace is Hyuna’s hands grabbing his forearms and Hui’s hand on his hips.

He’s pretty much totally out for the count after that, curled up behind Hyuna and brushing his fingers over her thighs and Hui’s abs as they finish up. His mouth is on Hyuna’s shoulder and his eyes are on Hui. He doesn’t know how much time passes or how long it takes or how many times Hyuna comes, he’s too warm and happy, and finally Hyuna and Hui stop moving so much and just lie there, panting.

“How’d you know?” Hui murmurs, his voice muffled. Hyojong doesn’t lift his head to see, but he’s sure it’s because Hui’s face is hidden in Hyuna’s neck, or more likely between her breasts.

“You fuck hard,” Hyuna replies, pressing back against Hyojong affectionately. “Dawn fucks deep. Also, I’m psychic.”

“Knew it,” Hyojong mumbles, kissing her shoulder. “What am I thinking right now?”

“Hmm,” Hyuna sighs. “It’s like… _Hui is so hot, I hate him but he’s so hot, Hyuna is a genius and_ … something else really explicit about what my pussy tastes like or whatever.”

“And what am I thinking?” Hui asks after Hyojong is done half-heartedly poking Hyuna in the ribs as a reprimand.

“Probably the same exact thing,” Hyuna says, laughing softly. “Oh, and I can also predict the future.”

“Yeah?” Hui says. He moves around, lifting his head up from wherever it was to give her a brief kiss. “What’s the scoop, fortune cookie?”

Hyuna pinches his ear. “You and I are gonna fool around in the shower later, but first, I’m gonna kiss Dawn a lot, and then we’re going to have sandwiches for dinner.”

“This seems more like a wishlist than a prediction, but I bet it’s gonna come true anyway,” Hui smiles. “You really are a genius.”

“Well, obviously,” Hyuna shrugs, then turns over so she can press her lips to Hyojong’s, just as she said she would. Hyojong hums and kisses her, rolling onto his back and letting her crawl on top of him without breaking the kiss, and Hyuna smiles, settling down contentedly. “Baby,” she says into Hyojong’s mouth, “go to Dawn’s room and bring me back some shirts for me to wear, since he never did let me go through his stuff.”

“Alright,” Hui says, voice amused, and sits up, rustling around in the sheets. “Hyojong, that okay with you?”

“I’m not used to being asked about any of this,” Hyojong mumbles, his reply delayed because he’s distracted by Hyuna. “What’s going on? Am I being buttered up before you kill me?”

“Yes,” Hyuna says, nibbling at Hyojong’s lips and snickering. “I was hoping you wouldn’t figure it out.”

“I’ll be right back,” Hui says, gently petting a hand down Hyuna’s back. He gets up and leaves, and Hyuna and Hyojong keep kissing, Hyuna lifting a hand to pet Hyojong’s hair away from his forehead.

“I love you,” Hyuna murmurs, Hyojong echoing right after her. She keeps petting his hair, just like she always did back at home, and Hyojong has a horrible swooping sensation somewhere in his midsection like he’s about to cry, but then she kisses him deeply again and it goes away.

“Hey,” he whispers. He doesn’t want to ask this, but it’s rising in his throat now, and he can’t stop himself. “Hey. You would want me even without him, right?”

Hyuna pulls back, her expression confused for a moment before it softens. “Dawnie,” she murmurs, sliding her fingers over the sharp line of his jaw. “I’ve been in love with you for so long. I just… needed a little push.” She smiles slightly, pressing her thumb to the corner of his mouth. “Isn’t it the same for you?”

Hyojong, feeling buoyant, nods and turns his head to kiss her thumb. He’d be happy to leave it at that, because despite all his insecurities, he trusts Hyuna above anything, but Hyuna continues, “And you like him, too? I can tell you do, so you don’t have to answer. I see the way you look at him, and you did save his life, after all.”

“Hyuna,” Hyojong says, uncomfortable, and she shakes her head.

“I said you don’t have to answer. And I’m not going to say I told you so or anything like that. I’m happy, okay? I’m really happy that we all found each other like this, even if it took a while,” she murmurs, kissing his cheek, then his chin, then his eyebrow. “I’m having fun, and I’m really happy that you two are getting along so well now. He really likes you, you know.”

Hyojong doesn’t know what to say about this, so he doesn’t say anything, just watching her as she keeps kissing slowly over his face.

“And he has the whole time, but don’t tell him I told you,” Hyuna adds. “It’s a secret. You could probably tell, though. He’s not good at hiding things, except…” She goes quiet, and Hyojong can see she’s torn between wanting to comfort Hui and resenting him for keeping his family situation secret from her for so long. “Anyway. I’m happy. Are you happy?”

Hyojong nods before thinking about it, and then he thinks about it and nods again, more slowly. Hui liking him the whole time makes sense, but he doesn’t dwell on it for fear of being consumed by guilt. He’s happy now, and they’re ambiguously together for the moment. That’s what matters. The future doesn’t matter, and neither does the past. What matters is Hyuna pressing her lips to his again as Hui comes back into the room with a few shirts in his arms, which he places somewhat unceremoniously right on top of Hyuna. Hyuna laughs, pushing herself up and shaking the shirts off onto the bed. “Always so polite. There are those charm school manners,” she teases, reaching up for him.

He grins, leaning down and kissing her lightly. “I needed to get your attention, didn’t I? Anyway, what did you say about a shower?”

“Wow, so eager,” Hyuna says, starting to go through the shirts. “Maybe I’ll make you wait for it. Take an IOU for the shower.”

“And I’m not allowed to shower until then? This is hardly fair,” Hui says and pouts at her, sitting down by her side. 

“What was that about charm school?” Hyojong says, looking lazily up at them and not bothering to sit up. “Are we talking wizards, or being smacked on your knuckles with a ruler if you put your elbow on the table?”

“A little bit of both,” Hui shrugs, smiling at him. “I told you, I was a terror. I had to learn all kinds of manners in special classes, since nothing my nannies taught me ever sunk in.”

“Wow. I don’t care,” Hyojong declares, and Hui laughs.

“I think you do,” Hyuna says, her tone teasing, and walks her fingers down Hyojong’s side, past where _clavis aurea_ is tattooed on his ribs.

“Mm. No, I definitely don’t,” Hyojong says, but he’s smiling anyway, and it’s not long after that that they’re all tangling together under the sheets and debating who should go turn out the light. They narrow it down to Hui and Hyuna, but then Hyuna strictly refuses on the grounds that she’s just been fucked and her legs are “wibbly,” and Hui also refuses since Hyuna has already made him run an errand, which leaves Hyojong, but Hyuna stands up for him and says that he couldn’t possibly go do it, seeing as he’s the youngest and it would therefore be immoral to make him their errand-boy. 

“Guess we’re sleeping with the light on, then,” Hui sighs, and Hyojong untangles his legs from Hyuna’s to sit up and scoot to the edge of the bed.

“You’re both horrible,” he tells them. “Hui, what’s your sign?”

“Uh,” Hui says, off-guard. “Like, my star sign?”

“Yeah,” Hyojong says. He gets up, stretching his arms out before heading over to turn the light off. 

“Um… Virgo,” Hui says, and Hyojong and Hyuna both snort. “What? What does that mean?”

“I should have known,” Hyojong says vaguely, returning to the bed and pushing at Hyuna gently until she moves over to make room for him. 

“What does it _mean_?” Hui laughs, but neither Hyojong nor Hyuna answers, and even though he continues indignantly insisting that Hyojong tells him whether it’s a good thing or a bad thing, they don’t get anywhere. Soon, they’re falling asleep, Hyuna’s hair inadvertently in Hyojong’s mouth and one of Hui’s arms cast over them both. Hyojong liked being in the middle the one night they slept that way, but he’s more used to this, and they’ll have plenty of time to experiment with sleeping configurations. He likes sleeping like this, and he can reach Hui if he stretches — he sometimes catches Hui stretching for him, too.

They next make land in Colombia, then Venezuela. And in a Dutch island called Curaçao, which Hyuna loves immediately for the bright colored buildings and the narrow, charming streets. Hui tells her it reminds him of Europe, for which he earns a dirty look from Hyojong, but Hyuna is undeterred and has a blast, just as she does when they spend a day in Bonaire, another Dutch colony. Bonaire is smaller than Curaçao but just as charming, and Hyuna sees a wild flamingo somewhere and nearly screams. Hui and Hyojong do a sort of improv routine about catching the flamingo and starting a flamingo farm, which entertains Hyuna to no end, especially when Hui pretends to call his realtor to see about finding a good location for this, and Hyojong doodles a cute logo for it on a napkin. They spend a few hours snorkeling around an uninhabited nearby island, but for the sake of Hyojong’s peace of mind, they don’t stay out long. They’re out on the water again, headed towards Brazil, not more than a day or so after that.

Hyojong doesn’t want to comment on it, but he knows time is running out. Once they’re past Venezuela, there’s three more countries, and then Brazil. Each time they all curl up in Hyuna’s bed (which she insists on referring to as her own bed, despite the fact that none of them have slept anywhere else for more than a month) he tries not to stare into the void for fear of it staring back into him. He can’t think about it; it literally physically hurts too much, somewhere under his ribs. Makes bile rise in his stomach and his skin go cold. So he doesn’t think about it at all. Not when Hyuna and Hui take turns reading to him when he’s driving, not when he and Hyuna compete on coffee-making and give Hui a blind taste test to see whose is superior, not when Hui finds an old Kodak camera amongst his things and they stage an impromptu photoshoot, promising to get the photos developed as soon as they can. He doesn’t think about it when they’re all in bed tangled together, Hyuna sitting on Hui’s dick and finally getting him back for all that teasing as she rises and falls in his lap and makes him actually beg for mercy, Hyojong holding his hands down so he doesn’t try to get more than he’s allowed to. He’s probably holding on too tightly but Hui is too busy to notice. 

He can tell he’s not the only one trying to think around it. Hui has never mentioned Brazil or the future before, so his silence on the matter isn’t surprising, but Hyuna’s being dodgy, too. She doesn’t joke so much about making Hui take her shopping or how going on a road trip is out of the question, due to how bad Hyojong is at driving. She’s mellowing out the closer they get to Brazil. Hui’s acting the bravest out of all of them, which seems fucked up to Hyojong, considering he's the one with his whole life at stake. But he’s not bold enough to do anything about it, let alone actually sit him down so they can talk. He and Hyuna just hold onto either of his arms and let him lead them along the beach whenever they anchor somewhere beautiful and spend a day getting sunburnt and sandy. 

It’s a dream. Hyojong doesn’t want to wake up. He used to feel a pull whenever he saw the fridge divided into three sections; now he feels it at just about anything he sees. Hyuna wears their clothes far more than she wears her own, which makes Hyojong’s heart hurt. Hui whines and wiggles around in bed if he’s woken up too early, and Hyojong’s chest aches. It’s like he’s always in pain because of something or other. Usually it’s a good kind of pain, but still. 

But to his surprise, when they get into the waters of Brazil, the world doesn’t change. There are no tsunamis, gravity still works, all his organs are in the right place. Hui’s wearing the hat Hyuna got for him and checking a map to find the best route to São Luís. Hyuna looks a little pale, but she’s making jokes and being flirtatious, same as ever. Hyojong’s almost numb by now, and there’s nothing he could do, anyway. It’s too late to turn back, not that it wasn’t ever too late. It was too late when Hui first asked Hyuna to come with him, when he first sent that email. It’s never not been too late for them. Hyojong hates that he can’t stop thinking this way, his chin on his arms on the table, Hui up at the wheel, so near and yet so fucking far. Hyuna comes and sits with Hyojong, and she doesn’t say anything, but she doesn’t have to.

That’s just the first day, though, and it turns out it’ll take about four more days of straight sailing to get to São Luís. But they can’t seem to relax all the way, and the love bites Hyuna leaves on Hui’s hips look like they’ll last a while. Hyojong honestly thinks he’d prefer the bickering and tension from earlier in the trip to this, and that’s saying something, considering how much he loves repressing how he’s feeling. He feels too much to let himself feel deeply, that’s always been the case, but he wishes he could do something about it now, because there’s something real at stake here, and it might be the best thing that’s ever happened to him, including meeting Hyuna in the first place.

“What’s gonna happen when we get there?” 

Hyuna, of course. That’s one of the million reasons Hyojong loves her so much — she always says what he’s afraid to. They’re sitting at the outdoor dining table and her hair is up and Hui doesn’t look fazed by the question, barely a muscle moving on his face.

“Well,” he says, “first we need to find the dock we’re supposed to be leaving the boat at, then I need to get the sale set up. The guy who’s buying it, he’s this eccentric millionaire, old friend of my family’s, and I think he’s not actually here this year at _all_. He’s abroad somewhere. I think maybe New Zealand? Anyway, we’ll just leave it at the dock and he’ll wire me the money after he has someone run an inspection on it and see that it’s in good condition.” His voice doesn’t change in the slightest — it seems he’s taken a leaf out of Hyojong’s book and has brushed up on his repression skills. “He has a guest house somewhere by the beach, he said we can stay there until the sale is finalized.”

Hyojong risks a glance at Hyuna. He knows, she knows, and Hui knows that that’s not what she was asking, and he’s unsure whether she’ll ask for further clarification or not. She doesn’t, though, just nodding and sipping on her sparkling water. Hui doesn’t say anything else, either, and God knows Hyojong isn’t going to bring anything up himself. That night, Hyuna sucks Hui off while Hyojong keeps his hand curled tight around the base of his cock and mumbles dirty into his hip, saying whatever shit comes to mind, _gonna get you in a room, baby, with a door that locks so nobody comes running even when they hear you screaming for it, ruin the sheets, break the bed, can’t get enough of you so it’s a good thing there’s two of you, can never get enough, always thinking about what I’m gonna do to you next, miss you already as soon as we’re done,_ and then he and Hyuna spend a few moments bantering over who gets to make Hui come, either Hyojong with his mouth or Hyuna by letting him fuck her, and in the end it doesn’t matter what exactly happens or who goes where — they all end up all slotted together anyway, Hyuna draped languidly between them, roaming hands followed by lazy kisses all over. Hyojong’s tired of feeling this sick whenever he has a second to think. He doesn’t know what they’ll do when Hui’s gone. 

The sand, the sea, the sun. The next few days go by before Hyojong can notice time passing, but then they’re pulling into a port, docking the _Seahorse_ according to the instructions Hui reads from a faded print-out he’s had stowed away in some compartment this whole time, and packing up their suitcases again. 

Hyojong spends the whole morning trying not to cry. His carpetbag was nearly empty when they left Orlando, but now he can barely get it shut; it’s too full of half-used sunscreen bottles, books half-read, his new hat. One cowry shell necklace Hyuna got him somewhere to match the one she got for Hui. Where did all this sand come from? He slings the bag over his shoulder and goes up the stairs to the main deck without looking back.

“What about all this?” Hyuna says, gesturing to the galley and the contents of the fridge. “Can we leave it here? It’ll spoil.” She’s been chewing on her lower lip all morning and she’s pale again, all her worries written plainly on her face. And Hui is nowhere to be found, presumably packing up, too.

“Didn’t he say someone was gonna be inspecting it? They’ll get it, probably,” Hyojong shrugs. He sets his bag on one of the outdoor benches, then comes back in to look at the fridge and pantry and decide if he wants to rescue any of these snacks for later consumption. He doesn’t feel strongly either way, so he leaves them all where they are, just keeping an eye on Hyuna. Sure, he feels like absolute shit, but if she feels even the slightest bit upset that becomes the priority. And it’s obvious that she’s not quite herself, avoiding eye contact and going quickly around the kitchen to make sure she has everything. He catches her by the arm after around the fifth time she goes past him, tugging her in gently so she’ll look at him. It takes a moment, but she does, going still and lifting her chin up to meet his eye. She looks sad and nervous and she’s not trying to hide it, and Hyojong’s heart squeezes tightly in his chest.

“Dawnie,” she whispers, now looking searchingly up at him. He waits, because he can tell she wants to say more and she’s about to, there’s something important she needs to tell him, but she doesn’t get the chance to go on because then Hui comes upstairs with his tidy little suitcase and she steps away from Hyojong quickly. 

“My phone’s finally working again, so I have directions to the house,” he says, looking at them briefly so he can send them a professional smile. He’s dressed up nice, real pants instead of cut-off shorts and a blazer over a polo. Hyojong knows, logically, that that’s probably how Hui looks most of the time, but he’s so used to seeing him in various states of undress that it seems wrong and almost funny. He huffs quietly and Hui gives him a strange look, then heads outside to put his suitcase over the side of the boat and onto the dock. “We’ll go there first, you can get settled in, and I’ll go into town to meet Davi’s assistant or whoever it is.”

“Okay,” Hyuna says, biting her lip again and following him out. She says something else and Hui replies, but Hyojong’s not eavesdropping, standing motionless in the galley and looking around at the interior of the boat. He feels rooted to the spot, tied down all the way to the sea floor with no chance of ever escaping. This is it. Once he and Hui and Hyuna disembark and step onto the dock, they can’t go back to how it was. 

There’s nothing to be done about it. He comes outside, blinking around until he spots Hui and Hyuna on the dock already, and he steps over the edge of the boat to stand there by their sides. Hui’s signing some paper, and Hyojong idly considers offering to translate before remembering that his limited linguistic skills will be of absolutely no use here — he never learned Portuguese, and his Spanish combined with Hyuna’s Italian won’t get them particularly far. 

They walk up into town together, and Hui first leads them to a small bank so he can exchange what cash he has for reales. Hyuna and Hyojong wait outside, Hyuna visibly struggling between enjoying the sun and being stressed on Hui’s behalf. Hui comes out of the bank and nods to them, and when Hyuna slips her arm through his so they can walk together he stills for a moment but doesn’t push her away. Hyojong, who also hates being comforted and pitied, understands, and keeps his distance. 

The taxi ride to Davi’s beachside mansion is brief and uneventful, as none of them is in a particularly chatty mood. Hyuna sits in the middle since she takes up the least room, and Hyojong looks out of the window as the town goes by. After so long at sea, it’s strange to know he’s going to be on land for the vast majority of the rest of his life starting now. When he sneaks a glance at Hui, he sees him expressionless, not looking out the window or at Hyuna or anything, just staring into the middle distance, totally neutral. Hyojong has seen him mean, smiling, self-conscious, bitchy, upset, carefree, drowsy, but never blank, and somehow that’s worse than any other thing he could be. It’s unpleasant. Hyojong looks away.

“This place is fucking huge,” Hyuna says, craning her neck to see the house as Hui and Hyojong unload their bags from the car. “But we’re just in the guest house, right?”

“Right,” Hui nods, letting Hyojong lug Hyuna’s big suitcase along and himself taking his own, smaller bag and Hyojong’s carpetbag. “We can probably try and break into the main house, but I think he has people cleaning it, and they’d notice.”

“Bummer,” Hyuna hums, then sets off down the long driveway to the estate with Hyojong and Hui following. It’s a long walk and Hyuna’s bag is really very heavy, but Hyojong has kept up with working out (as best he could while on a yacht in the middle of the sea) so he’s not too badly out of breath when they finally reach the guest house, which is a much smaller clone of the main building. Hui takes the printed out instructions and reads the door code from them, which Hyuna types in, and then they go inside.

It’s small and bright, with very high ceilings and expensive hardwood floors. Hyuna goes in to check out the bedroom, and Hyojong follows her so he can let her put her suitcase wherever she wants it. She doesn’t say anything when he comes in, just gestures vaguely to a spot in front of the closet, and Hyojong can hear Hui’s footsteps echoing in the front room, where there’s a kitchenette and some couches. Hyuna sits on the bed and bounces slightly a few times to see if the mattress is suitable and nods to herself. “It’s big enough, right?” she asks, looking up at Hyojong.

Hyojong glances over the bed and shrugs. “I think so.” It’s nice that by now this thing they do is this established, but he can’t bring himself to be happy about that right now. Hyuna looks like she wants to say something else again, but just as before, she’s interrupted by Hui coming into the room.

“Looks great!” Hui says, a bright smile on his face. This is weird. He shouldn’t be this happy, unless — but no, that wouldn’t make sense, either. Hui’s a good actor, but not _that_ good. Hyojong narrows his eyes at him suspiciously as he comes into the room and joins Hyuna on the bed to test the springiness. “There’s food in the fridge and everything already, it’s amazing. He said we can stay here as long as we need to until the sale is done.”

“Okay,” Hyojong says, still suspicious. Hui doesn’t seem to notice the suspicion, though, just smiling at Hyuna like absolutely nothing’s wrong, like they’re still back on the boat and the world isn’t ending. 

“When is all of that… going down?” Hyuna asks delicately.

“We start Monday,” Hui says, “I think. It’s Friday today, so nobody’s going to be around in his office to work it out until then.”

“What does this guy do, again?” Hyuna says, putting her arm around Hui’s waist and leaning her head on his shoulder. 

“…Makes money, mainly,” Hui shrugs. “It’s all very vague. He’s just one of those guys that’s super rich and you don’t know how. My family’s known him forever and he’s never mentioned anything about his work. Maybe he inherited part of it, made the rest. Consulting, maybe? Banking?”

“Sounds shady,” Hyuna says, and they giggle about this for a while as Hyojong watches.

Monday. That’s two days away, or three if he counts today. The sale might drag on for a day or two, depending on how fast the accountants or lawyers get everything sorted out. But after that, be it Monday or Tuesday or Wednesday, they’re going their separate ways. Hyojong hasn’t looked into airports or tickets, but São Luís is a big city, he’s sure there’s some way for him and Hyuna to get home and that he and Hyuna will be able to stay at the guest house until their flight. But what about Hui? Where will he go, and how will he get there?

“Come sit,” Hyuna says, reaching out her hand for Hyojong. He blinks out of his daze and comes over to sit on her other side. He can tell she knows he’s worrying, because she takes his hand immediately and looks at him with big, serious eyes for a moment before breaking out in another big smile. “Let’s go explore, hm? Hui said this place has a small private beach thingy, and maybe a hot tub.”

“Cool,” Hyojong says, not really listening. How can Hui be so calm about everything? Maybe he really is that good of an actor.

“No, _hot_ ,” Hyuna says. She squeezes his hand, frowning up at him. “You okay?”

“Fine,” Hyojong replies quickly. “Just tired.”

“I know what’ll perk you up,” Hyuna says, letting go of his hand so she can teasingly run her palm over his chest, and he shakes his head, scooting away.

“I’m fine,” he says again, getting up off the bed. “Gonna go get some water.”

“Okay,” Hyuna says and doesn’t interfere as he heads for the door. Hui still hasn't said anything, and he’s probably looking around with that same blank expression on his face again, or maybe another fake smile. Hyojong feels a flash of something ugly and long-forgotten, something like anger or jealousy rising up in his midsection and leaving a bad taste in his mouth. He goes to the kitchenette in the main room and looks through the cabinets until he finds a glass and fills it with water, which he leans against the counter to drink.

He’s not expecting Hui to be in tears or grumpy or begging Hyojong and Hyuna to stay with him, but he expected _something_ , at least. This bland, happy expressionlessness is worse than anything else, and it can’t be good for Hui, either. But he knows they haven’t been there more than a couple of hours and it’s still early to tell how he’s reacting, which is somewhat of a consolation. Maybe Hui will let his feelings show after another day, or after the sale goes through. The question is whether Hyojong, who’s never been particularly known for his patience, will be willing to wait and see.

Hui comes out of the room, looking neutral as Hyojong had expected. He smiles when he sees him, though, coming over to stand next to him. “It’s a nice place, right?”

“Right,” Hyojong says. He’s not in the mood to talk. He can barely even look at Hui without feeling like the ground’s going to give way under him. Why isn’t Hui feeling the same? What’s wrong with this fucking picture? 

“We can’t go into the main house, but we can explore the grounds,” Hui goes on, oblivious. “It’s really pretty, I looked around when we were walking up. Did I say there’s a pool? Along with the hot tub? Let’s go exploring after we settle in a little. We’re pretty far from town but we can bicycle down and get dinner if we’re feeling up to it.”

“Great,” Hyojong mumbles. He sets his glass of water down, feeling absurdly like he’s back in his and Hyuna’s kitchen in Orlando and Hui is going on and on about the specs of the yacht. He’d thought things had changed, but apparently not, and it stings just as badly now as it had back then.

Hui, to Hyojong’s dismay, continues. “It’s a big town, too. Maybe we can go see the sights this weekend, if there’s nothing else to do. I’ve always wanted to go to Brazil, I mean, Rio specifically, but that’s on the opposite side of the country. If we were staying longer we could see the Amazon, which, mosquitoes notwithstanding, is supposed to be absolutely incredible, and—”

Hyojong can’t think of a way to shut him up that’ll be polite, so he just crosses the distance between them and kisses him hard. Hui makes a surprised noise but kisses back, his hands coming up to rest on Hyojong’s waist. But Hyojong’s not playing around, and he bites his lower lip too hard, wanting to make Hui feel the way he feels. Hui gasps and Hyojong takes the chance to press his tongue into his mouth and crowd him back against the counter. Hui’s arms wind around him and he keeps up as best he can, then eventually knocks Hyojong’s hips back so they can start stumbling back to the bedroom and back to Hyuna.

“Oh,” Hyuna says, her tone pleasantly surprised, as they fumble their way in, going past the doorframe and nearly tripping on the rug but eventually making it to the bed. If Hyojong’s eyes were open he’d be seeing red and he knows he’s biting too hard and kissing him too deep but Hui isn’t stopping him, he’s doing the same in return whenever Hyojong gives him a second to catch his breath, so he doesn’t stop until they’re both on the bed and he needs to breathe, too.

He wants Hui to fuck him. He wants to make Hui feel so good that Hui begs him never to leave his side again. He hooks a leg around Hui’s and pulls him in between his thighs, and he feels Hyuna’s light touch, running over his side and then switching to Hui. Hyuna leans down to whisper something in Hui’s ear which makes Hui shiver, and Hyojong moves his hands down to Hui’s stupid, formal slacks, unbuttoning them and sliding his hand inside. He’s coaxing him, making him want more, and Hyuna’s helping, pressing up close to Hui’s back and undoing the buttons of his shirt one by one. But she’s going slow, and Hyojong gets frustrated, pushing her hands aside and tugging at the shirt until it opens. By some miracle, none of the buttons tear, but Hui makes a soft noise and bites Hyojong’s lip anyway. Hyojong smiles and bites him back, and then they’re off again, rolling until Hui is on top and Hyuna can slide the shirt off his arms and toss it aside.

Hyojong pushes him away after a while so he can strip off, too, and he’s about to ask Hyuna to go get lube so Hui can fuck him when she goes anyway, then comes back with a condom in hand. She gives it to Hui, and they exchange a look that’s too fast and significant for Hyojong to be able to understand. He’s really impressed, though, that she seemingly can read his mind, but then he feels a pressure against his wrist and looks down to see Hui’s hand, offering him the condom instead. He looks up again at Hui’s face, not understanding at first. He’s wanted Hui to fuck him since the first time they all fooled around together — there’s no way Hui’s been harboring a secret desire for the inverse, he’d have noticed. But Hui is flushed pink and is hesitant to meet his eye, and the way Hyuna is smiling from behind him makes it clear that he has, and as usual, Hyojong is the last to know about it. Hyojong takes the condom and kisses him again, rolling them over to pin him into the bed and push his legs open.

Hui is always responsive, but with Hyojong’s fingers stretching him open he can’t shut up, not even with Hyuna kissing him to soothe him. Hyojong wants to be tender, wants to take his time, but he wants Hui to _feel_ it, right now and tomorrow and forever, so he goes fast and hard and sloppy until he’s rolling the condom on and lining himself up to push inside, Hui spread out underneath him with Hyuna holding his hands so he has something to keep him grounded.

Hyojong fucks him like he wished he could have fucked Hyuna all those months ago when she told him she was considering leaving. It feels so _good_ , so right to be with him, and he can tell Hui is seeing stars. How many more signs does Hyojong need to know that Hui belongs with them? How many does Hui need? Meeting at the club, always arguing, drifting apart and coming back together, their first kiss, that first shy handjob, falling into the water after him and bringing him back up to the surface even if it meant facing the thing he feared most — what more will it take? To say nothing of how Hyuna’s been waiting her whole life for Hui to come back, and now he’s finally here. Hyojong’s heart has grown to make room for Hui, that much is undeniable by now. It’s up to Hui whether or not to move in, and Hyojong fucks him like he’s giving him the key.

Hyuna comes just from watching them, curled up against the headboard with her hand between her legs and her eyes wide, and Hui doesn’t take long, either, shaking and desperate and gasping Hyojong’s name as Hyojong fucks him into the mattress. His sounds are so soft, so good to listen to, and that sweetness makes Hyojong slow down, finally taking his time as he rocks into him and comes not long after, shudders running through his whole body and his hands slipping down from their hold on Hui’s hips. He pulls out and collapses on the bed, and Hyuna and Hui both immediately go to curl up on top of him even though he’s sweaty and so are they — the guest house doesn’t seem to be air-conditioned, and Hyojong’s hair is sticking to his forehead and Hui’s skin has more of a glow to it than is common when he’s post-orgasmic.

Finally, Hui shows some real emotion, looking up at Hyojong with a wistful, grateful expression as he leans in to kiss him far softer than Hyojong deserves to be kissed after a performance like that. Hyojong kisses him back, then kisses Hyuna, who’s all shy and giggly, but then he gets restless and shifts out from under them to go find his cigarettes amongst his things.

“You okay?” Hyuna asks, sitting up to watch him go. She puts her arm around Hui, who’s still kind of moon-eyed and dazed and pliable and leans into her hold easily. 

“Yeah,” Hyojong says, showing her the pack, and tugs on a pair of shorts before heading outside. The guest house has a small back patio that leads out to the lush grounds, and he leans against the wall to smoke. Even though he left voluntarily, he wishes he hadn’t — he doesn’t want to be alone with his thoughts right now, he has too many of them. He lights up a cigarette and squints against the bright light, even though he’s standing in the shade. He can see the water in the distance, and he wonders where the boat is right now, what’s happening to it. Who’ll be traveling on it next, if they’ll be able to sense that Hyojong’s world changed while he was there. Will they find Hui’s carving hidden away in a drawer in the library? Will they sand it off or keep it there as a testament to the boy who loved and lost aboard the _Seahorse_? Hyojong coughs out his breath and taps the ash off the end of his cigarette. It’s better not to think about it, any of it. He and Hyuna will be back home soon whether he likes it or not.

The door to the patio creaks and he doesn’t look back to see who it is, because he can tell it’s Hui. Hui comes to lean against the wall next to him and Hyojong glances at him, ashing his cigarette again and exhaling out of the corner of his mouth, away from him. He doesn’t want Hui to think he’s mad at him, because — he is, but he’s not, it’s not really Hui’s fault that Hyojong overthought things. He opens his arm for him and Hui steps into his hold, his own arm going around Hyojong’s waist. Hui holds himself so straight and confident usually, but when they’re like this, Hyojong can tell that their barely-noticeable height difference is skewed in Hyojong’s favor; Hui is half an inch shorter than him at most, but he’s still shorter. 

He can’t stop himself from pressing a kiss to the top of Hui’s head before turning away to take another pull from his cigarette. He knows that the heartbreak he’s been fearing is drawing nearer and nearer, but that doesn’t mean he has to be miserable until then. The only options before him are being miserable now and later, or at the very least enjoying this while it lasts. And if Hui is allowing him to enjoy it for now, that’s what he’ll do.

“I thought I understood you,” he finally says, the cigarette almost gone. He himself barely knows what he means by that. There’s half a year of pent-up frustration in his words, frustration that he arrived in Hui’s life too late and Hyuna left it too early, frustration that Hui is still most likely keeping secrets, frustration that it’s all ending and there’s nothing he can do about it. He doesn’t know why he says it, and he’s damn sure Hui doesn’t understand it, either, but all Hui does is shrug, turning his head to kiss the tattoo on Hyojong’s shoulder.

“So did I,” Hui answers, just as inscrutably. He smiles up at him and it doesn’t reach his eyes. Does he mean he thought he understood himself, but he doesn’t? Or he thought he understood Hyojong? Or he agrees that he thought Hyojong understood him? It doesn’t make sense, and Hyojong frowns as he tosses the cigarette butt to the ground. Maybe it means all of the above or none of it. Hyojong could be on the wrong track completely. Either way, he doesn’t get much time to think about it before Hui is pulling away and going back inside. 

He stays out there for a while longer until the sun reflecting off the distant water makes his field of vision start going white. When he comes back inside, Hyuna is unpacking a few things in the bedroom, just enough clothes for a week or so. Hyojong can see Hui in the kitchen, and after a moment of feeling somewhat sick, Hyojong makes the conscious decision to act just like the rest of them and pretend nothing’s wrong. What good will it do to be dramatic and pessimistic? It’ll just spoil Hyuna’s fun and annoy Hui if he’s moping all the time. He’s good at repressing, anyway, and he can stew in his misery whenever he and Hyuna are back in Orlando. 

They go into town for dinner and to buy groceries, riding bikes that Hui found in a shed behind the main house. Davi’s estate is in the old side of town, so the cafe they select has more outdoor seating than indoor and they’re surrounded by brightly colored buildings with quaint balconies, and the street is cobblestone. Hyuna asks Hyojong to re-dye her hair at some point soon, and he agrees, his heart aching at the obvious parallel between this night and how he’d dyed her hair the night before they left home. But he puts that to the back of his mind. Hui looks so handsome in the sunset’s light, tanned, his hair lighter than it’s ever been — bleached by the saltwater of the sea. And Hyuna is laughing, drinking something fruity, and Hyojong doesn’t know how his heart can feel so full and so empty all at the same time.

On Monday, Hyojong makes breakfast while Hui gets dressed and Hyuna flips through a Portuguese phrasebook. They make very cursory small talk over breakfast, and Hui kisses them both on the cheek before heading out for the day. Whenever he comes back, it’s entirely possible everything will be over by then. Hyojong knows it’s petty and he should want things to go well for Hui today, but he can’t help hoping that it takes longer than a day. He should be ready to let go, but he isn’t, and he doesn’t fucking want to.

He dyes Hyuna’s hair in the bathtub, and while the dye is setting, she helps him re-do his roots. They’re both nearly naked, having stripped down to their underwear so as to avoid any stains, and this is the longest they’ve been alone together since the start of the trip. It’s just verging on awkward at first, since they’re so used to having Hui around, but they get back into their natural rhythm quickly, with Hyuna babbling on about something while Hyojong occasionally agrees, disagrees, or makes up a relevant fun fact. Their knees knocking together in the bathtub, bleach stinging Hyojong’s scalp, a watery dot of red dye sliding down Hyuna’s temple, it feels just like home, and when Hyuna leans over and kisses him, that feels like home, too. 

Local TV is playing cartoons, and they settle on the couch all intertwined to watch as their hair dries. Hyuna keeps running her fingertips over Hyojong’s wrist where his bones jut out and his skin is soft. Since that one incident on the boat with Hyojong getting a little too handsy, Hyuna’s banned him from putting her in his lap, so he moves to lie across her legs instead and she pets his hair like she always does. That’s how they are when Hui gets home, Hyojong verging on falling asleep in Hyuna’s lap, Hyuna’s eyes soft as she watches him more than the screen. 

“Hey! Long time no— oh, shit, is he asleep?” Hui says, his voice quickly dropping to a whisper from his original bright tone.

“No,” Hyojong mumbles, nudging Hyuna’s wrist with his nose so she’ll keep playing with his hair. 

“Wow, you look great,” Hui smiles, coming over to kiss Hyuna lightly on the cheek. Hyojong opens his eyes just enough to see him, and he can see that Hui looks somewhat shaken but is working hard to hide it. “It really suits you, how bright it is. Nobody else could pull it off.”

“You flatter me,” Hyuna says, tweaking Hyojong’s ear when he bites the heel of her palm lightly to get her attention. “Well? How’d it go?”

Hui exhales and shrugs, going over to the kitchenette. “We didn’t finish, that’s for sure. I waited for about two hours for the guy to even get there, and when he finally did, we didn’t even look at a contract or anything.”

“No?” Hyuna prompts. She shifts Hyojong’s head out of her lap and gets up to have a snack with Hui, and Hyojong reluctantly sits up to watch her go.

“Nope. We went to the dock to see the boat, and he said he didn’t like the _name_ , can you believe it? Luckily it’s not gonna be his boat, so it doesn’t matter if he likes it or not,” Hui mutters, pouring a glass of fruit juice. Hyuna makes a soothing, cooing noise and pets over his arm, then leans her red-haired head on his shoulder. “Anyway, after that we went back to the office and he called Davi, and they faxed some forms to each other. But by then the office was closing so he told me to come back tomorrow.”

“Bureaucracy,” Hyuna says wisely, and Hui shakes his head.

“Don’t get me started. Hopefully we actually accomplish something tomorrow.”

“Hopefully,” Hyuna agrees. But it feels hollow, and she glances very quickly at Hyojong, then away again like she’s guilty.

Hyojong knows what she’s thinking, because he’s thinking it, too. He hopes it drags on for days, if not weeks. He hopes it never gets sold, as selfish as that is. He hopes Hui changes his mind and doesn’t make Hyuna and Hyojong leave him.

Of course, nothing gets done tomorrow, either. There’s some issue with the faxes, and Davi is considering waiting to pay Hui until the inspection is done, which is obviously less than ideal, as that could take a while. But that discussion is over with by Wednesday afternoon, at which point one of Davi’s myriad assistants Skypes him during a walkthrough of the boat and he loves it so much he says he’ll buy it as-is for the price he and Hui agreed on months ago. 

Hyojong is still pretending things are fine and nothing’s wrong and nothing’s ending. The three of them spend a lot of time on the beach and agree that it’s pretty damn nice to be on land and to have a real shower. They attempt to all fit in the bathtub at the same time, which goes horribly. There’s water all over the floor, suds in Hyojong’s mouth, a blinding smile on Hyuna’s face, Hui barely managing to hold onto the side of the tub as Hyuna attempts to shove him out and onto the tile. Hyojong doesn’t even bother to reflect on how natural it feels because he’s honestly used to it by now, how well Hui fits in his life with Hyuna. He’s not taking it for granted, but he is used to it.

And something is stirring at the back of his mind. Something stupid and optimistic, the last thing to crawl out of Pandora’s box. Amongst everything else he’s felt over the course of these few months, this hope is by far the newest. He’s a fatalist, a worse-case-scenario kind of guy, so for him to actually imagine that maybe there’s a chance for something to not go wrong is unheard of. But every time Hui kisses Hyuna good morning, then reaches over and runs his hand over Hyojong’s shoulder blindly just to feel his skin, Hyojong’s little hope grows bigger. 

But he knows he’s running out of time. If he wants to make his dreams a reality, he needs to act fast.

Tuesday passes, then Wednesday, then Thursday. The stress of going into town for a new confusing meeting every day is visibly taking a toll on Hui, even though he is being a good sport about it. They’re still not quite done settling things by Friday, at which point the accounting team decides they may as well wait until after the weekend to finish up. Hui calls his mother at some point, which doesn’t seem to go well; he’s pale and quiet for a couple of hours afterward. They watch the sunset from the beach. Hyojong links his pinky finger with Hui’s as Hyuna holds onto his other arm, and they’re all silent.

Saturday morning, Hyojong makes breakfast. Hui’s sleeping in late at Hyuna’s insistence — she dug up a sleeping mask among her things and has been making him wear it to bed so he’s not awoken by the morning light — and Hyuna sits on the countertop to watch Hyojong cooking. She swings her legs back and forth, and Hyojong just pokes at the eggs in the skillet and waits for her to say something.

It doesn’t take long. “Dawn,” she says, her voice quiet. “What are we going to do?”

Hyojong flips the lumpy omelette over and glances up at her. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.” She bites her lip, kicking her legs out slightly again. “How are we getting home?”

“By plane, presumably.”

“But _how_?”

Hyojong knows she’s not asking about the logistics, and he looks at her again and she’s still chewing her lower lip. “It’s not up to me,” he says after a moment, which is as diplomatic as he can make that sound. 

Hyuna’s face, which already wasn’t particularly cheery, falls further, and she nods. “Yeah,” she says, sliding down off the counter. “I guess not.”

Hyojong is fairly certain she’s misinterpreted what he said, based on how sad she looks. She can’t possibly think Hyojong still has any kind of enmity for Hui, can she? There’s no way. He wants to clarify it, but he can’t do so without revealing his secret, hopeful plan, which is too fragile to be revealed yet, even to her. So he doesn’t say anything at all, just taking the eggs off the heat. 

“Let’s have breakfast in bed,” Hyuna says, tucking her hair behind her ear and getting out plates. “I think I saw a serving tray around here somewhere.”

Hyojong nods, turning off the stove and tracking down the tray in one of the lower cabinets in the kitchen. Hyuna’s probably disappointed in him for not showing more initiative, since surely she can see that Hyojong wants Hui to be with them, but it’s too early for him to make a move yet. He can’t explain it to her, so he’ll have to settle for her disappointment for now.

When Hyuna brings the tray into the bedroom, Hui is just starting to wake up, cocooned by blankets, his head barely peeking out. Hyojong sets the tray down at the foot of the bed and they both crawl in with him, Hyuna in the middle like she likes to be. Hui makes a bleary noise and cuddles up to her, reaching his arm over without opening his eyes for Hyojong, and Hyojong slots their fingers together and brushes his thumb over his knuckles. Hui smiles, kissing Hyuna’s shoulder, then yawns and sits up. “Is there food? Am I smelling food?”

“You could be seeing food,” Hyuna says. “Even tasting it, maybe. You just have to open your eyes, then your mouth. Not necessarily in that order, though.”

“I’ll take my chances,” Hui says, and opens his eyes to see the tray. He smiles, reaching down for it, and Hyojong leans down to help him along. Hyuna, as is by now customary, gets first pick of which egg she wants, and Hyojong and Hui barter over the other two for a while until Hyojong defers the superior egg to Hui. Hyuna leans her head on Hyojong’s shoulder as she eats, and he’s glad she’s not holding a grudge against him for being so reticent about how he's feeling.

“I don’t want to do dishes,” Hyuna announces when they’re done eating. “Hui should do it.”

“Hui is barely awake,” Hui cautions. “We might end up with some broken plates, is that really what you want? Will it be worth it?”

“I know where this is going,” Hyojong says. “This happens every time. We act like I’m not gonna do it, but then I go do it. Well, think again. Not today. Because today, I take a stand.”

Hyuna pouts at him. “How come? There’s not even that many dishes.”

“I cooked!” Hyojong defends. “Why should I have to clean, too?”

“Because you’re so good at it? And you love it? Come on, I’ll let you play with my tits,” Hyuna coaxes. 

Hyojong rolls his eyes. “You’ll let me do that anyway.”

“No,” Hyuna says, coy. “I have other plans for you.”

“Really?” Hyojong says, starting to stack the plates on the tray. “Do they involve me, a sponge, and some dish soap?”

“No,” Hyuna says, continuing to be coy. “But unless you wash the dishes, you won’t find out.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Hui says, and he pushes Hyojong’s grip away to take the tray for himself. He gets up, sighing, and shakes his head. “I have to do everything around here, huh?” But he’s smiling, even as Hyuna catcalls him all the way to the kitchenette.

“So. What are your plans for me?” Hyojong murmurs, leaning down to kiss the corner of Hyuna’s mouth.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” she says. She kisses him fully, pressing in to get close to him and shivering a little like she’s cold.

“I would, actually,” Hyojong says. 

Hyuna sits up to smile down at him, almost cat-like in her smugness. “Okay,” she says, then leans back in and whispers right against his ear what her plans are. She doesn’t mince words, and Hyojong can’t believe she’s really saying that to him and she really wants it but he also totally can, and he ends up blushing into her neck and trying not to get overwhelmed by the time she’s done explaining it.

“The dishes are washed,” Hui says, coming back into the room. “Now what are these plans Hyuna was talking about?”

Hyuna pauses kissing Hyojong and looks back at him, her expression innocent again as she pats the bed. “Come here, I’ll tell you.”

“Can’t you tell me from over there?” Hui teases, slowly coming over anyway.

“Suit yourself,” Hyuna shrugs. “I want to lie between you while Dawn fucks me from the front and you fuck me from behind. Both of you at the same time. How does that sound?”

Hui opens and closes his mouth a few times, his cheeks going pink, then stumbles over to the bed and lies down where she’d directed him to.

“Yeah?” Hyuna says, unbearably smug again. “Thought so. Go get the lube, we’re gonna need a lot.”

Hui nods quickly and pulls away, digging through the clutter on the nightstand to find the lube, while Hyuna kisses Hyojong, her hands running over his shoulders. “Have you wanted this the whole time?” Hyojong mumbles into her mouth, and all Hyuna does in response is laugh until Hyojong puts his hand between her legs and finds her wet already, which cuts off her laughter. “Mm. That’s a yes.”

“Shut up,” Hyuna says, breathless, and grinds her hips down so he’ll touch her more firmly. “Yeah, I want it, is that so wrong? Baby, go slow.”

“I know how it works,” Hui says from somewhere behind her, accompanied by the sound of a bottle of lube being uncapped. “Tell me if you need me to slow down.”

“I will,” Hyuna says, kissing Hyojong again. Her whole body goes rigid for a moment at Hui’s first touch, but she gets into it fast, her breaths shallow against Hyojong’s lips as Hui works a finger inside her. “Go— go get a towel,” she instructs, and Hyojong nods, tangling in the sheets in his rush to get out of the bed.

She smiles at him dazedly, but Hui doesn’t look up, his lips pressed to the back of Hyuna’s shoulder and his brows furrowed in concentration as he focuses on her. Her body starts to relax until she’s quivering against him, and Hyojong walks backwards to the bathroom so he can keep watching them. He nearly trips over the doorway when Hyuna slips one of her hands low to touch herself, her shuddering breaths audible even from there. But she shoos him away with her free hand even though her eyes are getting cloudy, and he nods, going into the bathroom and grabbing two towels at random before coming back.

“It’s gonna feel so good,” Hyuna is murmuring, tilting her head back to talk to Hui. “Dawn’s right, I’ve been thinking about it, been wanting it. Want to be that close to both of you, why should I have to choose?”

“You’re a genius,” Hui says, trying to catch her mouth in a kiss, but she ducks away before he can do so, gasping out a moan as her hand moves faster between her legs. 

“This woke you up fast,” she gets out after a moment, making Hui laugh and kiss the back of her shoulder again. Hyojong comes back to the bed and lays the towel down, inching it under her body slowly as she and Hui move up to give it room. “Maybe we should wake you up like this every day, huh? Breakfast in bed, then you get to do whatever you want to me.”

“Technically it’s whatever you want,” Hui says, reaching for the lube again, “but yeah, that sounds good.”

“Better than good, I hope,” Hyuna murmurs, her hips slowly rolling back and forth. Hyojong gets all caught up watching her again, but then he reaches out to touch, teasing his hands over her body as she touches herself. She looks up at him, and behind the heat in her eyes there’s something else he’s not ready to read yet — whatever it is, though, he knows it’s taken from the same page he’s on. 

He pushes her hand away so he can touch her instead, and she lifts her hand, pressing her fingers to his lips to give him something else to do. He takes her fingers into her mouth, watching her through his eyelashes, and presses the flat of his palm firmly to her clit the way she likes it. Hyuna gasps at the back of her throat and turns her head to hide her face in the pillow, breathing hard. Hyojong hums to ask her how she’s doing, curling his fingers just above the opening of her pussy, and he can feel Hui’s hand moving there, too, which is the cue he needs to slip his finger inside her. She moans, muffled by the pillow, and he bites at her fingers until she lifts her head to look at him. Her eyes are lidded and dark, pleasure-pain on her face, and she draws her fingers out of Hyojong’s mouth to run them down his chin, along his throat, and finally around to the back of his neck to pull him in to kiss her.

Hyojong grinds his palm against her clit and motions come-hither with his fingers, which makes her nails dig into his nape and her lips tremble against his. “You wanna make me come?” she breathes, her eyes half-open. “I know you love making me come. Do you like making me or Hui come more?”

“Yes,” Hyojong says, rocking his fingers back and forth inside of her, and grins when she tries to bite him. “I’m not gonna choose. Both. Hui, c’mere.” He breaks the kiss with Hyuna and lifts his head, leaning over her shoulder to get to Hui. 

“Where? I’m here,” Hui says, also lifting his head, and they bump together, clumsy for a moment before they align in a kiss.

“Yeah,” Hyojong says into his mouth. “You sure are.” He kisses him until Hyuna is squirming beneath them, demanding attention, soaking Hyojong’s hand. He crooks his fingers and her resulting moan makes Hui smile into Hyojong’s mouth, then he pulls away and gets more lube. Hyojong looks down at her, marveling at the sight, but doesn’t stare long before he puts his hand back to work, grinding in and on her in a pattern he knows by now she likes. 

“Fuck, don’t stop,” Hyuna says, her voice raw and high. “I’m not above fucking begging at this point, just don’t fucking tease me, I’m so close—”

“Not gonna tease you,” Hyojong murmurs. He leans down to kiss her, and she moans for him, again and again, sweet and hoarse when he rubs his fingers tight inside her. She’s trembling, melting, her hips rocking back and forth like she can’t stop herself from moving. And when he tugs her lower lip with his teeth and makes a soft, coaxing noise, she squirms down on his fingers and presses her thighs around his hand and comes, curling in on herself and gasping.

“No, don’t stop,” she sighs when Hyojong starts to pull his fingers out. “Keep going. Just go slow. Hui, gimme more.”

Hui nods, nuzzling some of her hair away from her neck so he can kiss under her ear. He does something that makes a high, shaky noise hiccup out of Hyuna’s mouth and she bites her lip, pressing her forehead to Hyojong’s. “Don’t stop,” she says again. “Feels so good. Gonna feel even better when it’s really you. Soon, I promise.”

“No rush,” Hui says, his eyelashes dark on his cheeks, his lips on her neck. He looks better than good, flushed from sex even though they’ve barely started, and he glances up at Hyojong and smiles, still working Hyuna open slow and careful as she takes in deep breaths and presses back against him.

Hyojong leans in to kiss her again, slow and wet, and curls his fingers inside her. She makes a quiet sound, her back arching, and she lets him lick into her mouth and press against her clit until she pushes his hand away, her voice shaking when she whispers, “Not yet, honey, next time I come I want it to be when you’re fucking me.”

“How do you both talk like that?” Hui marvels, moving back when Hyuna pushes at his arm gently, evidently ready to move on. 

“You just say whatever you’re thinking,” Hyojong mumbles into Hyuna’s mouth. “What are you thinking right now? You’re thinking about how bad you wanna be inside her, how good it’s gonna feel. Imagining what it’s gonna feel like for her, so full, nowhere to hide from how fucking good it is to be full like that, she might come the second we both get inside, that’s how good it’s gonna be for her. And now she’ll want it nonstop, gonna be dreaming about it, trying it out with her fingers to see if she can make it feel that good again but it won’t be the same unless we do it. She’s a princess like that, wants us to do all the work. But we don’t mind, right? We just wanna make her feel good, wanna make her wet all the time, wanna—”

“Dawn,” Hyuna groans, catching his lower lip with her teeth and biting sharply. “Shut _up_. I told you I only wanted to come when you were fucking me, why are you doing this?”

“Got carried away,” Hyojong says, nipping her back teasingly. “How are you?”

“I’m ready, I want it,” Hyuna says. He pulls back to look at her, and also to take the condom Hui passes him. She’s flushed and breathing hard, and she smiles at him, reaching out with one hand to touch his side and pull him in close. “Hui first. Then Dawn.”

“Okay,” Hui says, pressing up behind her and kissing her neck again. He rolls a condom on and puts his hand on Hyuna’s hip as she lifts her leg, casting it over Hyojong and squirming to get comfortable. “Okay. Gonna go slow.”

“Don’t care if you go fast or slow, I want you _in_ me,” Hyuna says, then all her breath rushes out of her so fast and her fingernails dig into Hyojong’s ribs hard and make him hiss in surprise. “Oh, fuck. I do care, go slower.”

“I will,” Hui promises, his voice low and hoarse like it always gets. Hyojong shivers, imagining what he told Hui to imagine, what this is going to feel like for Hyuna, and he watches her face as Hui pushes into her. Her eyes are closed and her lips parted, a flush running down her neck, and she bites her lip to hold back a sound like a whimper as Hui stops moving behind her and breathes out. “Tell me when to move.”

“Move,” Hyuna whispers, still clutching Hyojong’s side way too tightly, and she makes another broken noise when Hui obeys her. “Fuck. Dawn—”

“I’m here,” Hyojong says, lifting her leg up further so he has room. He slides his fingers down her and can’t help shivering again when he feels Hui moving inside, behind where he’s touching, and he glances up to look at Hyuna’s face, then Hui over her shoulder. Hui feels him looking and meets his eye, and his smile is so dirty and knowing that Hyojong has to look away, his cheeks going hot. He moves forward to line his cock up between Hyuna’s legs, and the sounds Hyuna lets out when he starts to slide inside are unlike anything she’s made before, breathy and high and totally desperate. 

The sensation is unbelievable. Having Hui inside her at the same time makes her so much tighter and hotter, and Hyojong muffles his moan in Hyuna’s mouth even though she’s not really in a state of mind that would allow her to kiss back. Her body is moving between them, back to press against Hui and forward to arch against Hyojong, and after a few moments of fumbling they set up a rhythm, Hui drawing back as Hyojong thrusts in, then the other way around. They go slow and filthy, deep the way she likes it, Hui’s mouth on the side of Hyuna’s neck sucking in a mark as Hyojong kisses her sloppy and she winds her fingers in his hair. This is home; this is where they belong, bodies inseparable with no space between any of them, Hyojong and Hui’s fingers lacing on Hyuna’s hip, Hyuna’s moans like whimpers or a prayer as they move together. 

“Talk,” Hyojong murmurs, licking her lower lip and then her tongue. “How is it?”

“I can’t— I can’t describe it,” Hyuna says, hoarse, clinging onto Hyojong for dear life. “Feel like I’ve been coming for hours. _Fuck,_ gonna be so sore—”

“We’ll kiss you better,” Hyojong says. “Wanna touch yourself?”

“Baby—”

“Yeah,” Hui says before she can even finish, letting go of Hyojong’s hand so he can touch her. He clearly liked knowing that Hyojong was fucking her at the same time as he was, but he likes feeling it even more; when Hyojong feels the brush of his fingers against the base of his cock as he drives into her, Hui moans, and the sound makes Hyuna go a little wilder, or maybe it’s his touch that does that. Either way, she’s moving more between them and her noises are more needy, her body starting to draw tight again.

“I love you,” she breathes, and Hyojong doesn’t know which one of them she’s saying it to but it doesn’t really matter. “I love you, oh, fuck, I love you.” She bites her lip to shut herself up and tugs on Hui’s arm, which makes him press in closer, and she tightens her leg around Hyojong, too. They both move in, constricting her more, and she quivers all over, breaking her messy kiss with Hyojong so she can bury her face in his neck and gasp wetly against his skin. She starts to come, her hips bucking forward, and she bites Hyojong’s neck way too hard to try and hold in a scream but it doesn’t work at all — she’s still filling the room with her sounds as Hui’s hand keeps rubbing her and Hyojong’s ears are ringing with it, she smells like sex and home, he can feel Hui’s cock when it jerks inside her and then he’s coming, too, dizzy from the force of it and gasping into the sheets.

Hyuna is kissing his neck and cooing out apologies, soothing him with feather-light touches. She must have bitten him too hard, but he doesn’t notice any pain or particularly care. He wraps an arm around her waist, then unwraps it so he can get Hui in his hold, too, pulling them both in. Hyuna’s shivering uncontrollably, her breath gone all wheezy, even as she keeps nuzzling into Hyojong’s neck and mumbling quietly to him. Hui kisses the back of her head and pets his hand over her side, then does the same thing Hyojong did, reaching over so his arm is over both of them. They lie there for a while, panting, and Hyojong waits for the ringing in his ears to stop. Hui pulls out of her first and she trembles, muffling a soft noise in Hyojong’s collarbone. But she doesn’t let him move away even when he protests quietly, and they stay where they are, all tangled together and out of breath. 

Hyojong has no idea how long they’ve been lying there or how long they were fucking for — already in his mind he’s having trouble grasping onto those memories and holding them. He can hear Hui breathing, and Hyuna’s eyelashes move against his skin whenever she moves. All his limbs feel heavy and his head is still spinning. None of them speaks, probably too afraid to break the moment, until Hyuna pushes lightly at Hyojong’s chest and says, “You know what this means, right? I’m not gonna be able to walk, so you’re gonna have to carry me.”

“Okay,” Hyojong says, starting to smile.

“Like, everywhere. I mean it, I’m being serious.”

“Okay,” he says again, grinning wider and kissing the top of her head. She cuddles into him, pulling on Hui’s arm so he comes closer, and Hyojong runs his hand over Hui’s side, then around to his back. 

This is too good to be temporary. God has never given Hyojong anything like this that he wasn’t meant to keep. He doesn’t know how, and he’s not sure it’ll be easy, but he’s going to keep it no matter what. 

They all peel away from each other eventually. Hyojong cleans up the bed and tosses the utterly ruined towel into a laundry hamper, then carries a giggly Hyuna to the shower. He and Hui lie next to each other in bed and Hyojong watches the news, trying to get used to the rhythms and sounds of Portuguese, as Hui looks over a tourist-oriented guide to local sights. Hui moves his leg over so one of his ankles is lying on top of one of Hyojong’s, and Hyojong smiles slightly, flipping through the channels. Neither of them is very talkative, but that’s okay. Hyojong has too much on his mind to be able to talk, anyway.

Hyuna manages to get out of the shower on her own, somehow, and demands that they go to the beach. Hui packs a picnic basket and they set out for the water, but Hyojong stays on the shore as Hui and Hyuna go into the waves, as he usually does. He watches them, unblinking, until his vision fades around the edges and they look more like featureless shapes than people. He closes his eyes and lies back on the sand, letting the sun warm him. It’s hard to ignore the urge to doubt himself and to hide, even though that’s all he wants to do. He’s taken a million risks for Hyuna, but he’s less good at doing it for himself. He supposes this is for Hyuna, too, though, which makes it easier to think about. But how is he going to say it? What is he going to do if it doesn’t go well?

He’ll cross that bridge when he comes to it. He has to get there first. 

They have a slow day, picnicking on the beach and then walking back to the house. Hyojong knows he’s being more quiet than usual, but Hyuna knows he has quiet days and if Hyuna’s not worried neither is Hui, so nobody calls him out on it. The couch is big enough for the three of them to curl up on, and Hyuna asks Hui and Hyojong to braid her hair, each of them getting one side so she ends up with two braids. It’s messy and lopsided and a disaster, but Hyojong is pretty sure that looking nice wasn’t the end goal.

Hui and Hyuna head to bed after a late dinner, but Hyojong stays in the living room under the pretense of not being tired yet and wanting to finish his chapter in the book he’s reading. He sets the book down after about an hour, though, and moves over to sit by the window and watch the stars coming out. He knows what he wants. For the first time since the start of this trip, he knows exactly what he wants, and they’re right there in the other room, sleeping peacefully with just enough room left in the bed for him.

He barely moves until the sun starts to come up. He hasn’t stayed up all night in a long time, but he doesn’t feel any tiredness. Instead, he’s buzzing, nervous, wanting Hyuna to wake up so she can hold him and he can smile at her and that can stay the same even if everything else changes. Birds are singing outside and he gets up to open a window to let the fresh morning air in. It’s cold and he’s still just in shorts, but he warms up soon, sitting on the windowsill and looking out over the landscape. His chest feels empty but not like something’s been taken from it, but like he’s waiting for something to come back in after it went away for a while. He leans his head on the wood frame of the window and watches the sun rising.

He hears Hyuna before he sees her. Her footsteps echo on the wooden floor and she quietly calls, “Dawn? Hyojong? Are you here? Oh, thank fuck, you fucking weirdo, what the hell? Where were you?”

Hyojong turns around to look at her over his shoulder, then moves around so he can hop back inside and close the window. “Morning,” he says, reaching his arms out for her, but she frowns at him, stepping away.

“I was worried! Did you not come to bed at all? I thought you ran off or something!” she says, then gives in and steps forward to hug him back. “Was there not enough room for you?”

“No, it’s okay, I just didn’t want to sleep,” Hyojong says, his mouth dry, his heart starting to beat faster. “Is Hui awake?”

“What? No,” Hyuna says, rubbing her face on Hyojong’s shoulder. “Did you really not sleep?”

“I’m fine,” Hyojong assures her, then gently takes hold of her and moves her back. “Let’s go wake him up.”

Hyuna blinks, starting to frown again. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine!” Hyojong repeats. “Come on.”

“Not until you tell me what’s going on,” Hyuna insists, but when Hyojong takes her by the hand and starts leading her to the bedroom she doesn’t dig her heels in too hard and follows him. “Dawn—”

“Just give me a second,” Hyojong says, squeezing her hand tightly. “Trust me. Do you trust me?”

Hyuna nods, still looking dubious, and lets Hyojong open the bedroom door and lead her to the bed. He sits down on Hui’s side and puts his other hand on his shoulder, squeezing and then gently pushing to wake him up. Hui makes a bleary noise and doesn’t lift his head from the pillow nest he’s created for himself, so Hyojong keeps going, petting his hand up to walk his fingers over the birthmark on the back of his neck. That makes Hui shiver and shoulder his hand away, and he lifts his head, squinting back at him. “What? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Hyojong says, the words building in his throat, climbing up from somewhere around his heart. Hui makes another sleepy sound and sits up more, rubbing his eyes.

“Where were you last night?” Hui says, stifling a yawn behind his hand. Behind Hyojong, Hyuna is still anxious and confused, and she starts to say something, pushing on Hyojong’s arm, but he shushes her gently, eyes on Hui. “Is everything okay?”

“I think we should stay,” Hyojong says. His voice doesn’t waver, and he doesn’t look away. “I think we should stay here, and I think we should stay together. When everything’s done with the sale, we should stay, and then when we go back, we should go back together. We can get a place together in Orlando or wherever you want. All three of us. Yes or no?”

Hui stares at him, then looks over at Hyuna, looking totally lost, deer in the headlights. “What?”

“Yes or no,” Hyojong repeats. 

“Am I dreaming?” Hui mutters, rubbing his eyes again. “Hyuna— are you in on this?”

“First I’m hearing of it,” Hyuna says, sounding shaky. Hyojong looks away from Hui for the first time to see her, and she looks just as shocked as Hui does. “Dawn, do you really mean it?”

Hyojong nods. How can either of them doubt him? He’s never been so sure of anything. Aren’t they? “I’m asking you, too,” he says. “Not just Hui. It has to be all three of us. Otherwise… yeah. It has to be.”

“Yes,” Hyuna says. Her eyes are starting to fill with tears. “I want that so much, Dawnie. It’s a yes from me.”

That’s all Hyojong needs. He turns to look at Hui again, and Hui still looks lost, scared, like a kid that got separated from his parents in a crowded shopping mall. He’s biting his lip and he’s so hesitant, so unlike himself when he says, “Me, too. Yes. I don’t want to— being alone is— but with you—”

“I know,” Hyojong says, and leans forward to kiss him. “It’s like that for me, too. But not anymore.”

“Not anymore,” Hui agrees, shaking, and Hyuna moves up the bed to pull them both into her arms. The morning sun cuts through the skylight and Hyojong doesn’t close his eyes against it, just turns his head up to the sky like he’s daring it to take this away from him. They stay like that in bed for a long, long time.

The sale happens on that Tuesday, and the money transfer comes through the next day. Hui clears it with Davi that it’s alright for them to stay for a couple more weeks, and Hyuna starts making phone calls back home, finding out about flights, apartments. Hyojong loses track of the days of the week, Hui gets a bad sunburn, Hyuna tries her hand at cooking and gives herself food poisoning, they’re all freckled and bad at Portuguese and they sleep until two in the afternoon every day.

It’s them against the world. It’s the three of them against the world. They’re home, and when they board a flight headed stateside, they go together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading!!!! if you've made it this far you deserve a medal!!! please leave a review and let me know what you thought, or hit me up on tumblr @gaywillis or twitter @paratazxis because i post a lot of triple h content lmao. also [edit as of july 21 2018] im working on a new fic and it's def very long, hopefully it'll be up soon!!!! feel free 2 subscribe to me if youre interested :~) and thank you so much for reading this and for supporting triple h!! big love to everyone


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